Punchy

July 27, 2021

I hate clowns. In my childhood bedroom, there was a hand-painted clown lamp that sat on my bedside table until I was eight years old. Why only until I was eight? Because that’s how old I was when the movie Poltergeist was released. My older sister took me to the premiere showing at our local movie theater, and needless to say, two days later, my clown lamp mysteriously broke.

As I got older, Killer Clowns from Outer Space, Pennywise, a John Wayne Gacy documentary, and that damn Chucky doll added to my coulrophobia. I realize Chucky isn’t a clown, but his hair is orange and he’s evil, so close enough. And while I may need a slight push, any chance I get to rid the world of one less clown, I strap on my daypack and take one for the team. Face your fears, and all that.

Given my disdain for clowns, you can imagine my reaction when I start to back out of my driveway one day, and a homicidal clown is staring at me through the back window of Black Momba—my kid hauler swagger wagon mini-van. Breaks were slammed, several heartbeats were skipped, and two kids suffered whiplash.

It took me a sec to realize it wasn’t the Seattle Pier clown I’d choked to death a few months prior, coming to seek a giggling revenge. I refocused on the twisted face staring back at me through my rear-view mirror, and then it hit me. There are only a handful of people who would be ballsy enough to prank me with a clown.

I threw Black Momba into park and pulled up my porch cam app, trying to ignore the roaring laughter behind me. And there it was… not an hour before. I watched in horror as three of my best girlfriends shoved that clown up under the back windshield wiper so he’d stay put, then danced in front of the camera all proud of themselves. I could feel that part of me that loathed being pranked bubbling up.

Those. Biatches.

I called my husband and explained that I was in need of clown removal in the driveway. When he came outside and saw the kids pointing, all giddy with excitement, and me, bursting into flames in the front seat, his amusement quickly soured as he realized a war had just been waged. He panicked, pleading that he had nothing to do with it. We’d had a prank war for years, but called it off when it got out of hand. But he knew there was no way I was going to let this one go.

Clowns were Defcon One.

I sent pictures of the removal to the culprits with several threats to their wellbeing. Within seconds my phone blew up with “LMFAO,” wildly inappropriate comments, and random pictures they’d taken in the act.

And this is precisely why I love them.

That morning, Lisa’s husband stopped at a neighbor’s garage sale, stumbled across this sorry excuse for a clown decoration, and brought him home. Standing two and a half feet tall and wearing the stereotypical two-toned clown jumpsuit, he’s basically a dressed-up PVC pipe with clown feet and an ugly face. He had a sound box that didn’t work (thank God), and the tip of his nose was dented in, as if he’d fallen over and face-planted. Or someone had punched him. And that’s exactly how he got his name…Punchy.

Lisa can come up with a good bad idea out of thin air, and the second she saw Punchy, the game was afoot. What ensued became the most epic prank war in the history of prank wars. Okay, maybe not, but to my tribe, randomly “gifting” Punchy to each other when least expected has brought endless fearful joy into our lives.

The rules are simple. If you get Punchy, then you get to pick who gets him next. The basic chain of events goes like this:

1. Choose your target. Must be in our friend group, which consists mostly of Jazzercise addicts who habitually end up at a bar after class.

2. Plan your attack. It must evoke both fear and laughter simultaneously. Group events such as birthdays or stealth home invasions are frequent venues.

3. Attach an accessory of your choice to Punchy. All gifts are to remain with Punchy and follow him wherever he goes. He has a ton of swag!

4. Coordinate with the target’s husband, kids, or whoever may be home during the attack. Especially Caroline’s, because he shoots first.

5. Either drop all kid duties on your husband for a few hours or wait till they’re in bed. Never take them for a ride-along.

6. Pick up available accomplices.

7. Carry out your attack and fail miserably at keeping quiet.

8. Take a glorified selfie with Punchy. If you get caught, your lame ass has to keep Punchy and try again, and your failure will be ridiculed on social media.

9. Wait till target blows up phones with pictures showing they have found Punchy in their bed, car trunk, office…wherever you put him.

10. Pat yourself on the back and revel in the knowledge that you had a win today. It may have been the only one, so take it.

11. Laugh at how pissed the target is that she’s now stuck with Punchy in her house until she can coordinate the next attack.

12. Post selfies of you and your accomplices carrying out the attack.

13. World learns of yet another successful mission via social media.

These rules just kind of made themselves. And really, there are no rules. But accessory gifts and “pics or it didn’t happen” are pretty standard. Add in the fact that alcohol is usually involved, and you never know what a Punchy attack will yield. He could end up strapped to a yard trellis, stalking our town’s Christmas Tree lighting, on a porch, in a car, on a car, in someone’s bed…anywhere, really.

But this post isn’t just about a group of women running wild through the hills of Camas at night, scaring each other with a demented clown. I mean, it is, but it’s about so much more than that. It’s about how one fugly, throw-away garage sale clown became the poster child for a bit of harmless fun and brought together the most amazing group of women I know. It’s about how giving the gift of love in the most unexpected form can feed the soul, and how just when you may be feeling a bit mundane, a whisp of orange hair peeking through a cracked front door can turn your frown upside-down.

So, the next time you wake to a clown hanging from your front yard tree, Keep it Golden, Girl. Someone loves you.

October 2, 2017 to present: 22 Punchy Attacks & Counting

Golden Girls Episode Recommendation: S5E5 Love Under The Big Top

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