And at the same time, there’s the version of me up above them in the attic, dressed in a tattered blue suit patched with rags. Standing in front of a cracked mirror, I put on my fingerless black gloves and my worn derby hat.“You’re looking sharp,” Scabs the Hobo Dog says at my heels.I smile at my reflection, but the grin is lost in the eternal frown of my white makeup.After I finish dressing, I sit by the railroad tracks that run through my attic. I search through the cardboard boxes that surround me.“What’s taking you so long?” Scabs whines. “We need to get this show on the road.”“I don’t know what to take with me,” I say. “It’s hard to choose.”“Leave it all behind.”“It’s not so easy, Scabs.”“But you’re never going to see these people again.”I ignore Scabs, and continue to search through the boxes. I find the stuffed gargoyle that my wife gave me when we first started dating. During that era of our relationship, we had an inside joke about gargoyles, but I can’t remember it anymore.
What do You think about Attic Clowns: Volume Four?
