I wasn't feeling so hot Saturday night. In fact, I was feeling very hot. I had a fever and some chills going on. I'll spare you the details, but it's all good now.
All that too-much-information stuff aside, John and I settled in early and ordered a movie. I was beyond excited because I had been dying to see "Zombieland" forever! I was all snuggled and toasty (for real, I was burning up!) and very much enjoying the bowl of salt and vinegar chips I had in my lap. All of a sudden, and if you've seen the movie you know what I'm talking about, a freaking scary-ass clown comes up under the bathroom stall where the films' star is doing his business.
It's one of those flash quick, freak-you-out as you fall asleep images that will haunt me for a long time.
Let me tell you now, that clowns scare me. A lot. Not only that, but I'm going to tell you a nice story of the time John had a clown come to the door of my parents house when I turned twenty years old.
The year was 1995. I had just returned home from my first year away at school and John was very glad to have me back in Ottawa. Determined to convince me not to leave and to transfer here to Carleton University, he really poured on the charm. Dinners out. Sweet nothings in my ear. And promises. Promises of the best birthday gift EVER.
I was convinced it was a dog. So convinced that I would have bet my entire student loan cheque on the fact that come June 30, John was going to show up at my door with the world's most adorable golden retriever ever. What else would keep me in town? It's not like I could bring a dog back to residence in Halifax, right?
He hyped this event like you would not believe. It was all he talked about. Any chance he got he'd get me to try and guess. Every time he asked I'd guess that it was a puppy. Oh, and he was sly! He denied it was a puppy each and every time. I knew better though.
On the appointed day, that being a scorching hot end of June morning, he had my closest friends show up early so that they could all "enjoy the gift". I was thrilled! Of course they all wanted to see my reaction as I met my new best friend!
I clearly remember the doorbell ringing and the look on John's face. It almost pains me to remember now because he was so full of charmingly boyish anticipation I almost feel bad that I completely lost my shit when I opened that door.
The big heavy front door swung upon and in walked the biggest, oddest and most frightening birthday surprise EVER. I wanted to cry. I wanted to run and scream. I wanted to throw up a little bit. But John, he was so thrilled, I tried to keep it together, even if the clown was a bit pervy and completely excited to be performing for a room full of scantily clad twenty year old girls.
What do I remember most about that day? Turning to John and saying "Where's my dog?"
In his defense, he had told me at least a hundred times that it was not a dog. I just thought he was trying to be coy. When I look back, I realize I was a huge bitch about it, but when John looks back he realizes that it was a bit of an odd gift. Of course, that's because he now knows that I'm really afraid of clowns. And revolving doors. And elastics. And Pillsbury Dough cans.
So please, don't ask me to hit the circus with you. Unless you plan on getting me really drunk first.