Conspiracy Theory: The Clown Assassin

Clowns. They're supposed to be entertaining, yet they've induced the nightmares of many for centuries. Why is it that this seemingly cheerful jester of sorts has an unsettling eeriness beneath that red nose?

Let's rewind back to the year 1804, Paris, France. The not-so-famous painter, Pierre Dupont was locally known (and laughed at) for using extremely bright, vibrant colors in his paintings. He also had quite the temper.

It was this very year that Pierre was discovered by the Marquis Girard. The Marquis loved Pierre's work so much that he requested Pierre paint a masterpiece to hang in his ballroom for his big ball he would be throwing that very month. Pierre was brimming with excitement over his new prospect, and immediately went for a walk through the city for inspiration. It wasn't long before he found it, for it was then that he heard the Marquis laughing with a few other noblemen around the corner.

"...And the fool agreed, thinking I actually enjoyed the bright scribblings he called 'art'!" The Marquis guffawed as his belly shook like an earthquake at a jello factory.

"Just imagine that monstrosity of a painting hanging in the Grand Ballroom for all of Paris to laugh at!" Mused one of the other noblemen.

"Oui, good show, Sir. This shall be a ball that Paris shall not forget!" The other one garbled over his pipe.

Pierre felt all his dreams and aspirations deflate before him. It didn't last long, though, for those dreams and aspirations were replaced with red hot anger and vengeance.

He stalked back to his studio and grabbed his brightest, most obnoxious colors. He didn't emerge from his studio for two weeks. He lived off of paper scraps and old paint water (how he didn't die of lead poisoning is a mystery in itself).

He pulled inspiration from the court jesters of old, but made the colors BRIGHTER! He painted the nose red and bulbous, (slightly reminiscent of the Marquis' nose...), and the clothes were a catastrophic mass of multicolored, multi-patterned obnoxiousness. The hair was a mess and the mouth had a red, dumb smile. To top it off, Pierre smirked evilly as he wrote across the top "MARQUIS GERARD: FOOL"

The deadline came and Pierre travelled to the Marquis' mansion to deliver his masterpiece. He covered it in the ceremonial curtain given to him for the grand unveiling. The covered canvas was hastily hung in the Grand Ballroom for all to grow more and more curious over. And would you believe it? The Marquis was so kind and generous, he allowed Pierre to stay for the ball so he could witness the crowd's reaction to his masterpiece. Not too many people would talk to Pierre, for he was a commoner. But for every scoff and snubbed nose Pierre received, the more eager he became for that velvet curtain to drop to the ground.

Finally, the time came. The music seized, and trumpets sounded off to catch everyone's attention. "Thank you, one and all for attending my ball this evening!" The Marquis' booming voice echoed through the room.

"Tonight, we have a special treat. A masterpiece, of sorts. This canvas above us is a painting by a Monsieur Pierre Dupont," he gestured towards Pierre and the entire crowd shifted to look at him. He mustered a mischievous smile.

"Well then, let's not delay... I want to see what is under that curtain!"

The trumpets sounded again. And with that, the curtain was pulled.

First the entire crowd gasped in shock. Then, Gerard got the reaction he wanted. The only difference was, the mocking laughter was aimed toward him.

Suffice to say, Pierre was not the only one with a temper. Gerard's red face resembled a tomato, ripe with fury.

"GAURDS!" He bellowed, "GET HIM!"

But Pierre was nowhere to be found.

In the days following, the Marquis Gerard did nothing but brine in his own rage, scheming up the perfect plan of revenge for Pierre.

"He has tarnished my name. My image!" He banged his fist on his table. "For that, he shall die!"

A few days later, Pierre came to his studio to see his painting returned to him, covered by the same curtain, with a note attached to it. The note read,

Monsieur Dupont,

It is beyond my knowledge why you had the audacity to paint such a distasteful image of me for my ball. You have besmirched the name of Gerard, and for that you shall pay greatly. I have returned your wretched painting, for I cannot bear to have it in my presence.

~The Marquis Gerard

Pierre shrugged and removed the curtain, taking a short glance at his vengeful masterpiece. He began to feel a sense of pride at how realistic it was, but then turned around to return to his work. It was then that he heard a voice.

"Gerard wanted you to know one more thing..."

Pierre winced as he turned around. Nobody was there, only him and the painting. . "Huh?"

"He says... Who's the fool now?!" The image in the painting leapt from the canvas, and, well... that red bulbous nose and obnoxious outfit was the last thing Pierre Dupont saw.

When the assassin returned, all clown-like, he told the news to Marquis Gerard that he had succeeded. He became overjoyed, and decided to throw another ball in anonymous celebration to the end of the scoundrel. The only problem? Nobody wanted to associate themselves with the "Fool" of Paris. Gerard fell into obscurity, and wound up undertaking the same profession that so outraged him in the first place: he became a fool.

As unbelievable as it may sound, the assassins discovered that the clown costume actually worked as good camouflage for many other assassinations, and for a while, the clown costume was the Parisian assassin's uniform. The clown image changed when one really bad assassin almost got caught and started dancing around and goofing off as a diversion. Since then, the clown image melded into the cheap entertainment at circuses and birthday parties that we know today.

And THAT is why clowns are so creepy.

I need to go read a book, or something.