Krinkles the clown doesn't consider himself crazy. Extreme, perhaps. He is only acting out the wishes of his dreamer, a little English girl named Molly. She is the ancient spider, the marionette pulling his strings. Since that unfortunate incident with her babysitter, Molly is in a straight jacket and restraints, for her own protection, of course.
Little girls have vivid imaginations and, well, children can be cruel.
It is Saturday morning. Most clowns are home watching cartoons, but Krinkles, feeling freshly painted, is in the vast parking lot of the shopping mall, crouched down between a mini van and a shiny new Honda Accord. The marshmallows in their bag were all talking at once to Krinkles. It seems each one has a different burning object it wants to be toasted over. "One at a time !" snapped Krinkles impatiently. Their leader, the one they call 'Big Chief' because of his perfect shape, proclaimed in his high pitched monotone voice " Flames of a Bicycle !" Krinkles' ears were growing with excitement. Most Marshmallows would pick a police car or a bag of groceries to burn, but a bicycle ! Krinkles loves children !
Leaving a few marbles on the pavement, Krinkles is dancing toward the Movie theatre with the stealth of a ninja. "Children love Ninjas" he thought to himself. And there they are. A rack of bicycles. Only three, but one will burn. The one with the small white tires, a perfect choice. Krinkles took out his little bottle of make up solvent and drenched the seat of the bicycle. With his giant Zippo lighter he sets it ablaze. 'Big Chief' felt the radio antenna pierce his heart and his flesh grew crispy in the fire. "This is Great" he tried to squeak, but Krinkles could not resist chomping down such a tasty looking morsel.
The shopping mall police cruiser glided silently to a stop behind Krinkles, but he heard the car door slam. "The police are on the way" the mall cop shouted, trying to sound authoritative.
"Are they going to shoot me ?" asked Krinkles "Do they have any children ? What's YOUR name ?" The mall cop started backing up slowly toward his car when he felt the heat and heard the crackle. Whirling around, he finds the mall cruiser engulfed in flames. As he stares in disbelief he makes out two figures on the other side. "Oh my God !" he yells out as he realizes they are two more clowns, and they're roasting marshmallows over his burning car.
"We are not gods, we are Krinkles and Molly sent us" the clowns sang out in unison. At this, he just cut and ran, into the mall, knocking over customers, making a bee line for the security office. His name is Bob Patterson, and we can only guess what was going through his mind when he found the office door locked with a 'closed' sign in the window. The window he looked through to see Krinkles sitting back with his big clown feet up on the desk reading Bob's Security World magazine. "They just don't pay me enough for this" rationed Bob as he just turned around and walked to his car. As he was leaving, he saw the the local police arrive with their cherries flashing. 'Good Luck' was about all he could think.
As the police were blocking off the area, the firetruck arrived to extinguish the burning vehicle. Through the thick black smoke and smell of burning rubber you could hear the cops on the radio "Where the hell is Patterson ?" A few witnesses reported seeing a couple of clowns, but none to be found.
Ninety minutes later, when the movie had ended, Krinkles tossed the bag of angry, untoasted marshmallows in the trash can outside of Cinema 4. "I'm going fishing !" he told everyone he passed on the way out of the building. Krinkles had never been fishing before, so it seemed the perfect time to go.
Chapter 2
Bob Patterson was feeling truly relaxed for the first time since losing his job as a security officer at Northfield Mall. This fishing trip was something he'd been putting off for far too long. No more responsibilities, no more petty complaints from shopkeepers and finally, no more nightmares about clowns. Just floating through the thick lime green duckweed in his comfortable old aluminum bass boat on a quiet Minesota morning.
The stillness suddenly exploded as someone shot up through the surface of the water, gasping for air. It was Krinkles ! "Bob ! What are you doing up here ? The fish are all down there !" As quick as he appeared, the red and white slime covered spectre was gone. Back down to the fishes. Bob sat there motionless for a minute. He was thinking maybe that doctor was right, this is all in his head. He lit up a Marlboro and turned the boat back toward shore.
Krinkles felt sad. Fishing is no fun without friends. Quick as a wink, Molly dreamed him into the city. Tonight is the opening night of 'Fun with Krinkles', a one clown art show.
Everyone would be there. Nothing much else to do on a Tuesday evening. The town had been plastered with posters, just like the circus was coming to town. Krinkles welcomed one and all. A few were dismayed when they tried to shake his hand and it came off. One little girl cried "That's a bad jokey hand !" but it was all in good fun. The bright reds and yellows of the paintings seemed to have a cheerful effect. One young couple was overheard saying
" I wonder what it represents ...". As if they were addressing him directly, Krinkles was compelled to respond. "It's all about food ! Everyone loves food. Children, fishes, even clowns. Would you like some jelly beans ? They're fun!" "Uh, no thank you. Do you use oils or acrylics ?" "I use condiments. Ketchup and mustard mainly. You know, everyone is potentially an artist. When you put ketchup or mustard on your burger or hotdog, do you squeeze it in straight lines or do you get creative with swirls and designs ? So you see, I just imagined the canvas was a hamburger and I made it look pretty !"
With a perfect sense of timing, Miss Pringle, the gallery owner, waltzed up.
"Mr. Krinkles, someone from the newspaper is here and would like to interview you."
"Oh, that sounds like fun !" Krinkles said with a mischievious gleam in his eye. His heart was pounding with excitement over the prospect of an imaginary clown becoming a celebrity. Molly will be so proud of him. "Hello Mr. Krinkles, I'm Beverly Kluchak from the Star Tribune." "Just call me Krinkles, please." Krinkles was sinking into the big club chair as he surveyed this serious looking Kluchak dame. She was wearing those half spectacles down on her nose and smelled like the elevator at Macy's. "Sooo.. tell me about the clown suit." Krinkles lost it. He began crying and sobbing. The water pouring out of his eyes was soaking the chair and carpet. "Do you have a tissue ?" he weeped. "Of course" said the reporter as she began rummaging through her purse. "Here let me take your notebook and pen. Now, how long have you been working for the newspaper ?" "About 4 years" she answered obediantly. Totally distracted, she forgot about the tissue. "And who were you before that, say, when you were a child ? " quizzed Krinkles as he was busy writing away on the notepad.
"Excuse me, but 'I' am conducting this interview. May I have my pad back ?" "No. Come and get it !" he teased, jumping behind the chair. Mrs. Kluchak began to feel a little scared of the maniac behind the chair and didn't even want her notebook back at this point. Clutching her purse close to her side she waddled quickly toward the door. "That clown is crazy !" she snapped at Miss Pringle as she passed. "No, he's just extreme !" echoed the reply. Miss Pringle was used to dealing with artist types and besides, all of the paintings were sold to an advertising agency with a major fast food client. Being heiress to the stacking potato chip fortune, she had certain connections. She turned off the lights and locked up the gallery. Krinkles had vanished. Molly had plans for him.
Chapter 3
Krinkles sat down at the counter in the
'Turquoise Cafe'. He was tired from walking
all night. Maybe Molly's medication was
getting stronger. The leather faced waitress
crippled her way toward him "Circus in town ?"
Krinkles had heard this comment before. She
really didn't want to know, so he ignored it.
"I'll have eggs, please" "How would you like them ?"
His mind reeled with the possibilities. He saw the
sign '2 Eggs any way $1.99' "Easter !" he said.
"and could you hide them from me ?" She looked at
Krinkles for a long time, poured him a cup of coffee
and disappeared into the kitchen.
Soon a policeman came in and went straight over
to Krinkles. "You got some identification ?"
"I'm Krinkles !!" "Sure you are, but I need some
identification." Krinkles offered to help him look
for some if he helped him look for his eggs, but
the officer wanted to take his new friend for a ride
in his squad car. Even with the gift of the shiny
silver bracelets, Krinkles did not want to go.
"Those cars catch on fire sometimes !" he warned.
While the officer was talking to his radio shoulder,
Krinkles decided to leave. He disappeared, leaving
only a pair of rubber hands in a pair of handcuffs
on the hood of the squad car.
A few blocks away, Krinkles was in the restroom
of the local Walgreen Drug Store, dying his red
hair blue. "They'll never recognize me now ! "
he told the Krinkles in the mirror. "Who ever
heard of a clown with blue hair ?"
Chapter Four
Krinkles felt dizzy, out of focus, like a speeding freight train. He closed his eyes and imagined he was on a merry-go-round,
eventually drifting off to sleep. When he woke up there was
nothing but total darkness, silence. It seemed like an eternity passed. Suddenly, the loud thud of a switch and Krinkles was blinded by a bright light from above. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a towering podium in front of him, with three clowns looking down on him, each dressed in
a primary color. Krinkles gasped "Good Golly ! It's the Tribunal of Molly !" "Krinkles !" their voices were in his head telepathically, all speaking in unison. "You have been chosen." "For what ?" Krinkles dared to ask. "As you interact with them so well, you will be going
under cover in the world of men. They dare to take themselves seriously, so your mission is to bring chaos and anarchy to their somber life of greed and fear. You are directed to re-invent
yourself as a human. We will be watching."
Finding himself back in the restroom of the 26th street Walgreens, Krinkles stood looking into the mirror. He imagined what he would look like as a human. He saw a man about 40 years old, one of those faces that's hard to tell the age. Distinguished, wisdom eyes, perhaps some freckles and red hair. Not clown red, but human red. Six feet tall with an extra large shoe size. A striking resemblance to Molly's father, in fact. A nice warm greenish brown herring bone suit with suede patches on the elbows, like a college professor, suspenders and a bow tie, of course. Perfect. With a blink it was entered. "Now a name" he mused out loud, stroking his new face. "Chucky, Wally, no it can't be a clown name. It has to be the opposite. ..Selknirk ..Selkirk !"
Krinkles walked out into the store. The first thing he saw with his new green eyes was a big gumball machine full of circus colored jawbreakers, five cents. He stood in front of it, searching his pockets for a nickle. It was in that moment he realized he was nickleless.
Nicholas Selkirk !
Outside, Krinkles saw an odd relic, a pay phone booth. He thumbed through the yellow pages until he found a listing with a toll free number. A business school ?
Krinkles was lucky to get an appointment with the president of such a large institution on such short notice. As he waited in the big leather chair, he soaked in the Ivy League atmosphere. Whorton Business College seemed like the very citadel of Imperialism, the war college of the Captains of Industry. "Mr. Keller will see you know" the secretary said
in a pre-recorded tone "you can go right in." "Mr. Selkirk ! Pleased to make your acquaintance !" Keller said, with a vigorous hand shake. "Have a seat." "Let me get right to the point Keller. I would like to donate ten million dollars to the school." It was true, Krinkles would like to, ...if only he had it. Keller's face showed both shock and pleasure, his eyes having a glint of predatory greed. "That's very generous. Are you alumni, Mr. Selkirk ?" "Just Selkirk, please, if
you don't mind. I would like the donation to be anonymous. This school is good for preserving the privacy of it's benefactors, is it not ?" "Of course, of course .." "May I have one of your cards with your contact information, then. I'm in town to procure a position from which I hope to do some good for society. I'm getting to the place where I want to give something back, you know." Keller handed him his card, with his cell phone number written on the back. "Just let me know if there's anything I can do for you while you're here Mr. Selkirk."
"Just Selkirk, please. I'll be in touch. Have a good day."
Later, at St. Elias Hospital, in a remote and vacant waiting room, Nicholas Selkirk sat watching CNBC on the television, absorbing the lingo and the drama of the financial markets. It seemed a lot like a game to him. "Where's the Money ?" he called it.
When the morning roar of the traffic below had subsided, Selkirk picked up the courtesy phone and gave Keller a call. "Keller, my good man ! Can you recommend someone over at Goldstein-Flachs that handles off shore banking and such ?" "Certainly, Mr. Selkirk. I'll give James Brogan a call and tell him to expect to hear from you." "Thank you, sir." Krinkles knew the gossip would go along with the call. Ten million dollars isn't something easy to keep under your hat.
That afternoon Nicholas Selkirk walked in to Goldstein's ivory tower, the largest investment bank in the world.
The directory showed a James Brogan on the fourteenth floor.The elevators were the fastest Krinkles had ever been in. He would love to ride them all day, but he had business to attend to. Arriving at the office, the secretary had barely finished his name on the intercom
when Brogan popped out to greet him. It was a real red carpet treatment and Brogan was as charming as a snake oil salesman. "Step into my office Mr. Selkirk, Keller has only good things to say about you ! How can I be of service ?" said the spider to the fly. "Well, I'm interested in learning about an off shore account. A quiet place to park my British Pounds until the dollar is in a more favorable position." "What business are you in Mr Selkirk ?" "The
entertainment business you could say. I don't really work anymore, and I've been getting a little bored. That's what brings me here, actually. I'm fascinated with the financial markets and would like to get into the game." "Well you've certainly come to the right place. We do have a one million dollar minimum on our hedge fund accounts .." "That is not a problem" Selkirk quickly replied "Anything worth doing is worth doing big." After some time of listening to Brogan explaining off shore banking, tax shelters, types of trading accounts, etc., Selkirk interupted. "I've only just arrived here and haven't set up an office yet. Can you recommend some place I can use, just for a day or two, with computer access ? Just long enough to set up this account, transfer funds around, look at some charts ?"
Brogan noticed Selkirk looking around and picked up on his hint. "We've had to let quite a few people go recently with all the volatility in the markets. Deleveraging, you know. I'm sure
there is a station around here somewhere you can use. Excuse me a moment, I'll talk to my manager. Be right back." Krinkles smiled as his he slipped his hand into his jacket pocket,his fingers tracing the round bowl of the pipe he had picked up from Keller's desk back at
the college. He could sense Brogan outside, telling his boss about the big fish in his office. "We're in luck, Mr. Selkirk !" Brogan said, returning to the office in long strides.
"There is a cubicle you can use just down the hall. Has a computer station all set up." "I'm Nicholas." Krinkles said in a foreshadowing tone. They walked down a long carpeted hallway to the cubicle. "Make yourself at home, Nicholas. I'll be here for a few more hours.You know where my office is if you need anything." Brogan had left him papers to fill out, with an off shore account number to fund and a temporary password. He hoped this would be enough.
Krinkles closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He began to meditate, tapping in to the collective consciousness of Molly's clown army. Once he could feel them, his eyes popped open. His fingers began typing on the keyboard, faster and faster and faster. Krinkles was in a trance, guided by Molly herself. Meanwhile, somewhere in the Cayman
Islands, and somewhere in Bermuda, the accounts of huge corporations and sophisticated criminals were all being instantly emptied, as if by a giant vaccuum cleaner. Within thirty minutes the money was gone. But one small glitch was not in the plan. Nicholas Selkirk's hair began turning redder and redder. His face started turning whiter and whiter. The little zig zags in his suit were getting larger and larger. He must have experienced a drain on his power. He couldn't be seen like this here, not now. Krinkles had not looked in a mirror, but he knew that he was back to his old self again. Just as well, the task was finished. As he headed for the elevator, he passed James Brogan in the hallway, who was just on his way to check on Selkirk. Krinkles smiled and gave him a wink. Brogan was still staring with a confused look on his face when the elevator doors closed. Not everyone is comfortable with clowns on elevators it seems. Krinkles invited the other passengers to jump up just before landing but he was the only one that did. "Weee! That was fun !" he shouted.
The doors opened and Krinkles was gone. Back on the fourteenth floor, all Brogan found in the cubicle was Keller's pipe on the desk and an old Bozo the clown show playing on 'You Tube'. His mind stretched to find a connection between the out of place clown and his missing client.
Krinkles found himself once more in front of the Tribunal of Molly. "You did well today, clown. You will be rewarded."
"Can I ask one thing ?" Krinkles asked sheepishly. "Ask." said the voices.
"Where's the money ?" "Through millions of checking accounts. Tomorrow everyone in North America will wake up to find their credit card balances have been paid off."
"Weeeee !" Krinkles was happy.
