Mr. Jiggles: Part 1
By Patrick O’Donnell
The cool autumn wind was blowing through the sleepy town. Crisp orange and red leaves are falling, dancing their way to the ground. Bradley Baker savors the crunch as he walks on the sidewalk to get home after school. Bradley was not a unique boy. He often felt like he could blend into any crowd and disappear. This made him feel both invincible and terribly lonely. Bradley had not known true company since his Dad died five years prior. He had passed away of a heart attack when Bradley was at the tender age of eight. To make matters more scarring, Bradley had been in the room with him when it happened. They had been watching Bradley's favorite show; Mr. Jiggles. It was about a clown who would go on adventures helping people.
Arriving at the house, Bradley took a deep breath. Nothing good was going to come out of entering, and he wanted to delay suffering for as long as possible. He took in the flaws of the house as he stood delaying the inevitable. The garish brown paint was peeling, and his stepfather Jason was too lazy and drunk to deal with it. The house had two floors. The main floor, where most of the pain and suffering happens, was home to the TV that Bradley's Dad had died in front of. Now, it was the home to drunk Jason and his homophobic abuse. Upstairs is Bradley's room. Bradley is calculating if he could make it upstairs before Jason saw him. Deciding to take the risk, Bradley slowly opened the door, peeking in ever so quietly. He was not lucky today.
“Your Mom is going to be home late, why don't you make us some goddamn food now that you're home.” Jason is already drunk, Bradley can feel his whole night slipping into a nightmare. “Come here boy, I need to talk to you.” Bradley slowly inches closer to the place where it happened five years ago. He hates standing there, it makes him feel things he doesn’t want to feel. “I know your Dad died and all, but really it’s time to move on. Like, what is wrong with you, kid?” Bradley holds back the tears. His eyes burn and his body feels like an inferno. “Look kid, here is a twenty, go down to the sandwich shop and buy us some sandwiches.” Bradley takes the money and Jason grabs his arm. Bradley can feel the fingers of his stepfather digging into his flesh as if to drag him to hell. “Don’t fuck around, I’m hungry.”
Bradley hates the walk to the sandwich shop. The autumn leaves that were, only moments ago, so appealing now hold a more ominous tone. To get to the sandwich shop he has to pass in front of the neighbor's house. Bradley is sure that the house is haunted. Worse yet is their dog. A big, furry, mess of a dog. It has brown mangled hair, and a drooly snarling mouth. It also hates Bradley. Bradley saw the house coming into view. His stomach was dropping, and everything in him wanted to turn back. Before long, he heard the snarling barking of the dog. Bradley started to run. His heart is pounding in his chest. The tears start flowing down his red cheeks, his lungs fill with acid. At last, he arrives where he needs to be. Bradley looks around, an emotional mess.
Once Bradley has the sandwiches, he heads home. In a brief shimmer of serenity, the dog is not outside on the way home. Bradley takes this rare moment to breathe and reflect. Bradley feels in the pit of his stomach that life has to get better. It can’t be this bad forever. He just didn’t know how he was going to turn it all around. When he got home, he opened the door and saw Jason had passed out on the couch. Bradley took this rare moment to tell Jason how he really felt. With his middle finger raised defiantly, Bradley dropped his sandwich on the table next to where Jason was sleeping. Clutching his sandwich, Bradley defeatedly walked up the stairs to his room. What was waiting for him in there would change everything.
Standing in his room was a clown. Not just any clown, but Mr. Jiggles. At least someone who was dressed like him. The sandwich fell to the floor. “Who are you?” is all he managed to say. The figure turned around. The outfit had all the right trimmings: Black and white pinstripes running horizontally on the outfit, big red rubber boots (comically large) protruding under the frill of his pants. The face is what really bothered Bradley. The face had the right makeup: white greasepaint, and red lipstick spread into a smile. However, the eyes, the eyes were smokey and looked like burnt eggs. As if he had ordered them from a bad dive bar and dripped them into empty sockets. The hair was rotten egg green and spread like a disease over the top of the clown’s head. “Hiya Bradley, I’m Mr. Jiggles,” he squeaked. His fat jiggled as he spoke, hence the name. “Okay, next question, why are you in my room. Why can’t I scream, why can’t I run.” Bradley was frozen. His throat was barely able to vocalize the words he spoke. “You can’t run because I don’t want you to. You can’t scream because, well, why would you? I’m just a friendly clown.” Mr. Jiggles weight shifted with each laugh.
Bradley finally felt his body relax. “Okay, but still, why are you here?” Mr. Jiggles stopped moving as if he was a broken animatronic. Then, without warning, flared back to life, his voice gyrating pitch. “You summoned me. Come with me, I’ll show you what I can do.” Bradley didn’t want to go with this clown. He wanted to eat his sandwich and mope. However, Bradley also knew he wasn’t going to get what he wanted tonight. As they crept downstairs, Bradley wanted something he had never wanted before. He wanted Jason to wake up. Bradley’s throat felt constricted, it was as if he could only talk at certain times. “This way, follow me!” chanted Mr. Jiggles. Jason could be heard snoring loudly from the couch. Empty beer bottles littered the floor like ruins of an ancient temple.
The cold air hit Bradley like a hammer to the face. The weather had dropped significantly since he had last been out. Bradley was feeling like something besides the clown was off. It felt as if time itself had warped. Mr. Jiggles continued to lead the way. His large rubber shoes bounced off the sidewalk more than they stepped. “Where are you taking me? I don’t like this, it’s cold, it’s dark, it’s just weird.” Mr. Jiggles didn’t respond with words, he simply pointed to his red nose as laughter leaked out of his mouth.
At last, they had arrived. The neighbor's house stood over them both like an impending avalanche of nightmares. “Why bring me here?” asked Bradley. Mr. Jiggles was to busy scanning the surroundings with his over-easy eyes to respond. There was silence, and then that was broken by a sharp whistle. Bradley felt his body stiffen as he knew what was going to happen next. The hell beast burst out of the front of the house. Splinters of wood raining down onto the front yard. Mr. Jiggles had summoned the neighbor’s dog. This time the dog didn’t have a leash. However, it halted right in front of Mr. Jiggles, cocking its head to the side and staring at him with curiosity. “This dog, it’s not nice to you, is it?” Mr. Jiggles took on a sinister vibe. His body seemed to grow, and Bradley could have sworn the eyes had gone black.
“No, the dog hates me. I don’t know what that has to do with anything. I don’t have to go this way too often. If I just keep my head down and ignore it, it’ll be okay.”
Mr. Jiggles pulls out three rubber balls. The dog perks up and sits upright. Its tail hangs out lapping at air as if it had been deprived of oxygen seconds beforehand. “Keep watching the balls doggy. It’ll be fun and games in just a few minutes.”
Watching Mr. Jiggles juggle the red balls made Bradley feel uneasy. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. The dog is watching intently, moving his head side to side to watch them go up, then fall back into Mr. Jiggles hands. It was as if Mr. Jiggles had put a spell on him. “Okay you mutt, go fetch.” Mr. Jiggles threw the balls into the street. Seconds later the dog leaped out to grab them. Each time his jaws were closing on a ball it would vaporize and materialize just out of reach.
“Stop, you are going to get that dog hurt. What if a car comes?” Mr. Jiggles turns to Bradley and winks. A horn ringing out could be heard as he debated what he should do next.
The horn became more intense and Bradley realized what was happening. The truck was barreling down the road. It was clearly going to fast, and there was no way it could stop. The dog turned his head, and a metal grate was the last thing he saw. Bradley threw his hands up to shield his eyes from seeing the impact. He could still hear the sound of breaking bones, snapping like dried twigs in winter. A sound that would haunt him the rest of his life. When Bradley looks up he is alone. The truck is gone, and he doesn’t check to see if the dog’s remains are there.
Walking home, Bradley feels as if had lost time. The moon was out, bathing the neighborhood in the soft white light. The street lamps beamed down like tiny sanctuaries. All Bradley wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep. When he got home the front door was ajar. For a brief moment, Bradley feared the worst as he ran into the house. “Where the hell have you been?” his mother shouted. She was standing by Jason in the kitchen. “It’s nearly midnight young man. I have been calling you and calling you, you better have a good explanation. Jason and I have been so worried about you.” Bradley couldn’t anymore, he couldn’t handle the strain of pretending like he was okay in front of his Mom. “I’m sure you were so worried about me. I’m going to bed.” His Mom stood there stunned. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she let the moment pass her by. As he walked up the stairs, he could hear the rumbles of their conversation. “You’ve got a real dick for a son, if I was his blood father I would send him to boot camp or some shit.” That was the last thing he heard as he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
