fearthefool

...Nothing springs immediately to mind... I always love the clowns in a play, but they're all the same character.

LOOK MA NO HANDS

Clopin has spent all day hiding from the Drone. He thought she was pretty, when he first met her. After the first five minutes, he thought she was trying too hard to be perfect. After about ten minutes, he realized there was nothing beneath the surface. She was a beautiful blonde automaton, operating only how she was expected to, and nothing more.

When he came home from a full day of exploring, he found a catalog book. Flipping through it, he found a list. The pictures were framed tastefully, with patterns to enhance their appeal, but the objects themselves were familiar.

[Clopin's Catalog List:

15 box tops: Earring
20 box tops: Hat
30 box tops: Gloves
40 box tops: Mask
50 box tops: Puppet
70 box tops: Scythe]

Clopin closes the book, goes outside, and climbs up the side of the house to sit on the roof. He needs altitude to think.

Clopin woke up in a bed that wasn't his, with all his gold- except for the fillings in his teeth- taken from him. His clothing is gone, his puppet is gone, and in it's place are strange fabrics with complicated stitching. There were three types of tunic in the drawers, but after a little trial and error, Clopin finally figured out how to work the one with buttons on the front.

When he tried to leave, he found pictures in the hallway of himself with two children and a wife. The wife was pretty and blonde, and it must be her who made the house smell so strange. He couldn't place the smell, but it was unnatural and artificially sweet.

Clopin wasted no time leaving. He found shoes which fit him, and walked out the front door.

He found himself in a house, with a yard and a white picket fence. Next to his was a house just like it, and it's mirror image sat across the street. The sunlight shone through the leaves in the cool summer morning, and the wind whistled through the peaceful streets.

Clopin went back inside, dug out a sturdy bag buried in foul-smelling white balls, and began to pack provisions for a trip of undefined length.