Funny Business
By James Sykes
DON’T BE AFRAID OF THE CLOWNS.
Copyright© 2017 By James Sykes.
Funny business
Part one : the estate.
It is exactly fair to say that life had become a night-mare for the Kausebarten family since they had moved to the Cliff-top council estate. They didn’t live in one of the local or apartments that had beautiful seaside views, standing proudly next to the seaside hotels. But the Kausebarten family had moved into a tower-block overlooking the coast on the out skirts of the town of Mare-gate.
Mare-gate was a seaside town with a spooky reputation. The year before, the local themed amusement park: The Fantasy Playground, closed its gates. The locals speculated that this was for the last time, as the park had been falling into decline for years.
Now with the credit crunch and small coastal resorts like Mare-gate loosing its attraction to the tourism industry, things were beginning to look bleak.
A bus ride away from the town centre and a walk up a long slope, leads you to the entrance hall of the Kausebarten’s new family home. The intercom at the entrance was often broken and the lifts often had that stink of piss. It was a squalled building that the people who lived in were forced to call their home, more often out of circumstance and desperation than out of choice.
Now with the credit crunch and small coastal resorts like Mare-gate loosing its attraction to the tourism industry, things were beginning to look bleak.
A bus ride away from the town centre and a walk up a long slope, leads you to the entrance hall of the Kausebarten’s new family home. The intercom at the entrance was often broken and the lifts often had that stink of piss. It was a squalled building that the people who lived in were forced to call their home, more often out of circumstance and desperation than out of choice.
The Kausebarten family had been feeling persecuted by the local community and recently the abuse had seemed to escalate. It started with name calling and and taunting by the local kids who had made it their new source of entertainment to make life for the Kausebarten family as unbearable for them as possible. For them it now started to seem to Ronny.
Wendy and Ronny Kausebarten would be walking down the street to go to the shops and children would shout out rude words in loud voices.
At first ,they both didn’t even notice. But the voices and taunts persisted gradually building up in volume and vocabulary, until even in cue-lines in the supermarket they could hear people whispering about them and staring at them with suspicious eyes, accusing eyes. Eyes that said: “You’re different to us and we don’t like it.”
At first ,they both didn’t even notice. But the voices and taunts persisted gradually building up in volume and vocabulary, until even in cue-lines in the supermarket they could hear people whispering about them and staring at them with suspicious eyes, accusing eyes. Eyes that said: “You’re different to us and we don’t like it.”
They were the new family in town and everybody had noticed.
Then one day they found that some kids had set a box on their door mat on fire. Wendy opened the door, when she heard the loud knocking and called out.
“Ronny!” She screamed. “They’re trying to burn us out get some water quick!” The smoke started to blow through the house and Ronny in a state of panic and still wearing his dressing gown through a jug of water half over the burning box and half over Wendy. The box was still smouldering and Ronny began to stamp on it with his enormous frog feet slippers. This was a mistake, he found out after a couple of stamps. The box had also been filled with dog shit.
The smells of shit and smoke amalgamated out side their flat and that is when the troubles really started.
Part two: In the police station.
Then one day they found that some kids had set a box on their door mat on fire. Wendy opened the door, when she heard the loud knocking and called out.
“Ronny!” She screamed. “They’re trying to burn us out get some water quick!” The smoke started to blow through the house and Ronny in a state of panic and still wearing his dressing gown through a jug of water half over the burning box and half over Wendy. The box was still smouldering and Ronny began to stamp on it with his enormous frog feet slippers. This was a mistake, he found out after a couple of stamps. The box had also been filled with dog shit.
The smells of shit and smoke amalgamated out side their flat and that is when the troubles really started.
Part two: In the police station.
The police officer tried to write down Ronny’s name. “C-O-W-S...” He spelled out.
“No!” Ronny exploded.
“It’s Kausebarten! KAUSEBARTEN! Not Cow’s bottom!
Ronny’s name had been a cause for ridicule, his whole life and even now, in his mid forties, he couldn’t help but feel stressed when people made jokes about his name.
Ronny continued his story he was reporting to a police officer, who obviously had better things to be doing with his time in the Mare-gate police station situated near the sea front not far from the newly opened modern art gallery, the Britannia pub and the archaic Winter-gardens theatre.
"It's racism" Ronny Kausebarten said while giving his account to the local police officer in charge of overseeing his allegations."
“No!” Ronny exploded.
“It’s Kausebarten! KAUSEBARTEN! Not Cow’s bottom!
Ronny’s name had been a cause for ridicule, his whole life and even now, in his mid forties, he couldn’t help but feel stressed when people made jokes about his name.
Ronny continued his story he was reporting to a police officer, who obviously had better things to be doing with his time in the Mare-gate police station situated near the sea front not far from the newly opened modern art gallery, the Britannia pub and the archaic Winter-gardens theatre.
"It's racism" Ronny Kausebarten said while giving his account to the local police officer in charge of overseeing his allegations."
Ronny looked up at the police officer with big brown watery eyes, where a tear swelled and eventually trickled down his cheek and landed on the desk with a plop. He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a yellow handkerchief and blew his nose with a loud honk.
The officer's eyes flicked from Ronny to the clock on the wall and leaned in holding his breath and trying not very hard to force at least his acquired minimum of professional sympathy. "I know all this has been upsetting for you sir... you just have to understand that we are not used to urm well, people like you round here..." his voice trailed off as he skated expertly round the name of his family's kind. It was something to be pitted maybe even disgusting and perhaps feared but not accepted no not here in this seaside town where jobs are hard enough to get and life isn’t sometimes all that funny. No, we cant have their kind making a joke out of our way of life.
"It's a form of terrorism that’s just it. we are just a family like any other, my nerves are shot my wife's upset and the children are traumatised and you... you can't even say what we are. Why do we scare people so much? We are just a loving family!"
"Well, sir some people have a phobia of clowns!"
"Well, sir some people have a phobia of clowns!"
"That's just the kind of attitude I'm talking about. It's racism that's all just racism."
"I don’t know if that's true sir In all accounts you did chose to be a... you know, clown." Officer Clinton now subconsciously began pulling at the collar of his shirt as if it was now becoming unbearably too small for him.
"I was borne funny that's all" He honked again and mopped at his eyes the hanky was now becoming too wet to be any real use at all.
"Its terrorism against our kind my kids are afraid to go back to school and my wife is too scared to go to the shops. Our car's been burnt and our windows bricked in. How am I supposed to be reacting? I come here to report a crime and it's like people are laughing in my face!"
"Well sir you are a family of clowns...."
" It shouldn't matter. it's our way of life, our personal belief the heritage of our family. We pay our taxes, live respectable lives..."
"Well, that is a matter of opinion...." Collar tightens and he tugs again to escape free, thinking after this it's my weekend I can go home. I suppose in all actual fact the local community ganging up on a legitimate family of clowns was a new kind of time wasting this pillar of the community had no time for.
"I don’t know if that's true sir In all accounts you did chose to be a... you know, clown." Officer Clinton now subconsciously began pulling at the collar of his shirt as if it was now becoming unbearably too small for him.
"I was borne funny that's all" He honked again and mopped at his eyes the hanky was now becoming too wet to be any real use at all.
"Its terrorism against our kind my kids are afraid to go back to school and my wife is too scared to go to the shops. Our car's been burnt and our windows bricked in. How am I supposed to be reacting? I come here to report a crime and it's like people are laughing in my face!"
"Well sir you are a family of clowns...."
" It shouldn't matter. it's our way of life, our personal belief the heritage of our family. We pay our taxes, live respectable lives..."
"Well, that is a matter of opinion...." Collar tightens and he tugs again to escape free, thinking after this it's my weekend I can go home. I suppose in all actual fact the local community ganging up on a legitimate family of clowns was a new kind of time wasting this pillar of the community had no time for.
“Last week we had thirteen pizzas delivered to our flat.” Ronny said. “This kind of abuse has to stop.” Officer Clinton’s belly rumbled and he rubbed it with his hand. “There’s not much we can do sir, if it gets more serious, we’ll get involved. But for the moment, take my advice and eat the pizzas.
“Thanks for nothing” Ronny left not feeling satisfied. Some how he knew that something bad was going to happen. Maybe it already had.
“Thanks for nothing” Ronny left not feeling satisfied. Some how he knew that something bad was going to happen. Maybe it already had.
His neighbour Pat had been watching them attentively with disapproval. She didn’t like people who were different and she didn’t trust foreigners. You could be a foreigner to Pat, just by coming from a different part of Kent.
