Waxing the Freak

So I conceived with myself, I gave birth to a set of notions. The process went as follows.

“Is my profound fear of fast food related to my fear of clowns and the purportedly friendly, yet terrifying grimace of Ronald McDonald?”, I asked myself.

“I think that, yes,” I replied.

I made a chart, to check on myself. And yes, there is a correlation. I also found a definite relationship between the color of Ronald’s hair and that of
Shirley MacLaine, of whom I am also profoundly afraid.

Exploring the color relationship, I aked myself, “What about mimes? You like mimes. You also like to wear black clothes, and white clothes, though rarely black and white clothes.”

It was true. I informed myself that, yes, I do like mimes. Mimes are mysterious and funny. They do not attempt to disguise their otherness with bright red fake smiles.

“Aha!”, I shouted. “I knew it! You are also afraid of office wear. It is the lipstick, and the painted grimaces! Soon you will fear store clerks that greet you by name with false cherry grins!”

And I knew that it was so.