Meet “Funny Face.”
He was painted in 1969 – a Christmas gift to my father from his godmother (an amateur artist).
How this character earned the name Funny Face, I’m not certain we will ever know. He looks like John Wayne Gacy. Or Tim Curry as Stephen King’s It.
He has no neck to speak of. He’s pretty chubby, but not in that fun happy-chubby way. His eyes are dark and expressionless, not to mention rather lopsided. His uni-brow is menacing, to say the least. His fire-engine red lips are ginormous. And he has fangs.
I repeat – he has FANGS. Not huge ones, I’ll be honest, but FANGS, people. FANGS.
Why does he have no other teeth? And why are his fangs so tiny and pointy? They’re like the canines on my cat. And his smile is so lazy and half-hearted, like – I’ll say it – like a pedophile’s.
Finally, it looks like he has stubble. There is actual darkening around his chin. And it looks like it was actually painted on there. On purpose. Why would someone do that? Was she playing with shadow? Was she trying to give him a fat neck? Or was she actually painting stubble on this guy? Alas, we shall never know.
Funny Face lived in my garage as I was growing up. Mom refused to let him inside the house (I wonder why). But there he was, every time I went out to get a screwdriver or work on a Boy Scout project. Watching me. Eventually, it was time for me to be a real human and move out of the house into something of my own. I took Funny Face.
Why, you ask? Because I could. And because I figured he would eventually get thrown out if he stayed with my parents.
Unfortunately, several significant others found him less-than-desirable on my apartment wall, so he stayed well-hidden. One day, though, I made a decision and I put my foot down and got the old creep out of storage and stuck him up on my wall. In my bedroom, no less! I claimed him as my own and made no apologies about it.
My current girlfriend is still getting used to sleeping in a room with this guy, but thus far he hasn’t stolen her soul or anything.
Now, meet this guy:
Apparently this charmer has been roaming the streets of Northampton of late, just standin’ around with his balloons and generally scaring the knickers off anyone who chances to see him. You can read more about him here:
So here comes the confession:
When I was home alone a few days ago, I happened to be in a really good mood. And when I’m in a really good mood, I end up talking to inanimate objects (personality trait story for another day, perhaps). Anyway, while getting dressed after my shower I spied my ol’ pal Funny Face on the wall and I struck up a convo. We chatted about several things, to include lyrics for a song I was working on and some story ideas I had for a new novel, but I finally got around to saying, “Ya know, you really are a creepy looking guy. I really hope you never come to life and terrorize the countryside or anything.”
BAM – the next day, this bloke shows up in Northampton.
You do the math.
I can only imagine that my dad’s godmother somehow trapped this frightening clown in her painting using magical means, and I somehow freed his soul. It’s really the only logical explanation, I think.
At this time, I would like to apologize to the inhabitants of Northampton and its environs for releasing this demon clown upon them, and ask for their patience as I consult several resources relating to the occult in order to fully realize his transference back to the aforementioned painting.
If you do manage to garner an audience with the spirit, I would recommend that you address him as “Funny Face” (as that is his given name) and I ask that you please request of him to get the heck back into his stubbly, fang-toothed painting.