The Black Pot

Ianto takes a deep breath as he stands up. It's not really that the topic bothers him, although it's certainly not his favourite. But it kind of throws into sharp relief how much of himself he is missing, having lost his memories the way he has. He's standing up in front of these people, about to tell them something he doesn't even remember. He just read about it. It might as well have happened to someone else.

"I never really cared one way or another about clowns when I was a kid. I didn't really like them, but they didn't scare me, either. They were just people in weird costumes who made balloon animals and things like that. Then I grew up and went to university and got a job, and never thought about them.

But a while ago we were involved in this case, a big case. There was this big streetfair, and the members of my team were...brainwashed or something, into being performers. And I was a clown. Only I was there, but my mind wasn't. My mind was being shown the future, a future, a terrible one, what would happen if we weren't able to win this fight. I saw the darkness take over. I saw Jack die." Again and again and again, he doesn't add. "I saw myself die trying to save him..." He trails off, shuddering a bit. "So no, not really a big fan of clowns now."

Considering how Jack is trying to avoid... certain people... He isn't present for this month's café meeting.

He does, however, have a mobile phone, a partner who likewise has a mobile phone, and the ability to text message and use speakerphone settings. So, once he's exchanging a bit of texting with Ianto (complete with some choice inappropriate remarks), he sends a voice message along for Ianto to play for listeners.

"You know, I used to actually like clowns just fine, back in those circus days. They weren't as fun as acrobats, of course... But anyway. I can definitely do without them now. Yeah, I can understand a fear of clowns these days. It's not that I'm afraid of them myself, but there's something pretty chilling about seeing your friends turned into possessed clowns. Seeing-- you like that. Clowns aren't exactly funny to me any more, not that many of them were before. Kind of cheesy. Clowns are unpredictable though, so, if some kid's going to be scared of them or even an adult, I don't think that's silly of them any more. Never know now if that clown really chose to be one. That's pretty twisted, isn't it? Hey, if Myfanwy were to dress up for Halloween, what do you think she'd be? Ask people what a pterodactyl should be for Halloween. How does sexy nurse sound? Anyway, see you again later, love you, bye!"

It might be a slight failure on the "for public playback" with his parting words, but Ianto lets it play through without muting.

Data looked around the café which Caprica had brought him to. Such places were excellent for observing human social interactions, though he understood that not all who came here were human. He glanced around for the Cardassian he had been told of, but didn’t see him. He took a chair and listened to the various conversations. Caprica had explained that the owners of the café chose a topic once a month and people were free to comment as they chose. But Data grew perplexed as various people talked about clowns. "I do not understand". He looked at Q. “Your story implies that clowns are of a species inimical to humans, especially children. And you Doctor,” he turns to face McCoy. “You say your daughter frightened other children while dressed as a clown.” He glances at the Master. The man reminds him uncomfortably of his brother, and he chooses not to speak to him just now. “I was under the impression that clowns are happy and make people laugh. I do not completely comprehend humor, but I understood that this was considered a good thing. I do not understand the references made to 'evil' clowns.” Data looks around the café once more. “You see, I have been compared to a clown.” A sad, tragic little clown, he adds silently. “And I do not consider myself to be in any way evil. Could someone please explain this difference to me?” he asks anxiously.

Q stands up, shifting from one foot to the other nervously. “I’m afraid of clowns. I’m not ashamed to admit it. Lots of people are. I’ve read IT,” he nods to James, “more than once. Pennywise was based on John Wayne Gacy you know.” He says that quietly. “Lovely concept. And let’s not forget that bloody clown from Poltergeist! Stephen Spielberg is afraid of clowns. And Michael Meyers was dressed up as a clown when he killed his sister at the beginning of Halloween. Coincidence? I don’t think so.” He unconsciously scratches the back of his head. “I’m going to tell you a story and then you tell me whether or not being afraid of clowns is something to laugh about."

( Please do not read any further if you are easily frightened. You have been warned! )

Dr. McCoy stands up to address the group in the cafe. He shrugs. "I've never really felt anythin' about clowns. I don't like 'em, but I don't hate 'em either. I'm indifferent, if anythin'."

"I took my daughter Joanna to a circus once when she was little, and at first, she was terrified of the clowns. She was five at the time, and anytime one of those clowns would come near her, she'd cry and hide herself in my arms."

He smiles at the memory. That was one of his favorite days, taking Joanna to the circus. When he was in medical school and during his internship, he didn’t get to spend much time with his daughter, so he always treasured those days when it was just the two of them. "It wasn't until after the show when one of the clowns came over to talk to her after he'd taken off his makeup that she realized they were just regular people with stuff on their faces."

"So that Halloween, she had her mother make her a clown costume." The doctor laughs out loud. "I think she scared more kids with that costume than any ghost or goblin that night."

There isn't a key in his hand but a promise would have to do. The lips are pulled in a small frown he walks into the place. It wriggled infant-like in the Doctor's mind, rosy colours and freshly growing flowers. Daffodils: it had made him smirk and the Doctor pout. Predictable, Doctor. Whispers of companions and friendship and long conversations made him gag and the Doctor grin.

Again, predictable. He pouts.

He watches from the door, nose wrinkled but the Doctor's crudely dismissed him for the day and told him to stay out of trouble. It stinks. Sweat. And bad food. And human pets. Other pets. Pets pets. It doesn't matter. It stinks. He seizes up those around him. Ape, ape, stupid ape, girl ape. He rolls his eyes, put-upon sigh on his lips as he stands in the back of the room, watching ape eight and ape nine put on the cheery faces.

"CLOWNS!"

( His shout carries, he nods eagerly at the crowd as they turn around. )

We're continuing the party-theme, kind of. We're going to talk about clowns. Evil clowns, specifically.

So clowns are regularly hired to entertain small children. And small children are regularly so deeply traumatised by the event that they carry the scars well on into their adult lives. Is fear of clowns crazy? Or is it totally understandable to you?

Are you afraid of clowns? Do you want to admit your coulrophobia in a safe and loving environment? This probably isn't the safe and loving environment I'd recommend for such a thing, but we could rustle up a cup of tea and a slice of cake if you really felt the need to come out.

Perhaps you might want to discuss Stephen King's contribution to the clown menace. Good taste might dictate that we leave all discussion of John Wayne Gacy aside, or maybe you don't hold with good taste and want to tell us all about him.

If nothing else, you might want to go hunting for (or draw) some pictures of truly terrifying clowns to share with us. We'd like to see some art for Halloween, with a clown theme.

The tag for this month is clowns, and don't forget to claim the month for your character here