THERE IS NO SAFE WORD

~SALERO THE CELEBRATED CIRCUS CLOWN, THE TOAST OF EUROPE, HAS COME TO AMERICA.

AND HE’S DRESSED TO KILL~

FOR print COPY

Laugh To Death, Authored by Charie D. LaMarr

List Price: $19.95

6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
436 pages

MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692330302 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692330305
BISAC: Fiction / Thrillers / Crime

“He didn’t bother to undress—merely unzipping his pants and shrugging them down before dropping on top of her and entering her fiercely. His grunts as he thrust hard into her were loud and vulgar. She struggled and writhed violently beneath him.
“No! You will not move. You say I am a fucking clown, and so I will be. And I will fuck you until I can fuck you no more. And when I am done, perhaps I will take you down to the cattle car and watch while the other clowns fuck you one by one until you are so full that their juices run down your thighs. You will learn to show respect for me. For my art and my craft.”
Pinning her hands to the bed, he entered her quickly and roughly. She screamed and spit in his face. He slapped her again and left her ear ringing as he wiped the spittle from her face and continued to pound her hard and fast.
“You hate clowns? Well you have a clown inside of you right now. How does that feel? A fucking clown is raping you and he’ll continue to do it until it pleases him to stop.”

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But the first time he stepped into a ring with his charmingly bashful persona, reminiscent of his idol Charlie Chaplain, all of Carlton’s worries were erased. Salero was worth every penny. Children sat at the end of their seats, delighted and entranced by this strange and unthreatening creature. Adults chuckled at his antics. America had been taken by storm by this combination of Chaplain, Marceau and Grock. He danced, sang, played the violin, juggled and clowned his way into their hearts. And at the end of every show, when the last of the cotton candy and popcorn had been consumed and the entire company stood across all three rings with their hands linked for a final bow, they cheered the loudest when Salero jumped from his car and ran across the floor, breaking through the center of the line and falling to one knee in the triumphant pose of a matador.

Behind the scenes, Salero wasn’t quite as beloved. In fact, in a world that is known for its freaks and where everyone is accepted as family, the word was that some of the show people were talking about Salero in some very unkind terms. The other clowns didn’t like him. Never before had a clown actually been a headliner in the show. He didn’t perform with them during their three or four brief appearances in the show. He worked alone, and his stage time was at least five times what theirs was. He didn’t make up and dress in Clown Alley with the rest of them. A special curtained dressing room was always set up for him wherever they performed and the wardrobe department assigned him a dresser for his personal use. A dresser for someone who wore the same baggy suit ten times a week! It was ridiculous. Why did he need a dresser? Didn’t he put his pants on one leg at a time just like the rest of them? Some of the other clowns began to wonder.

The acrobats and flyers didn’t like that his acts encompassed both acrobatics and trapeze work. They considered it undignified that a clown was performing such skills. In the hierarchy of the circus, such things were unheard of. The tightrope walker who walked the inclined wire to get to his platform high over the rings was insulted that a clown was now performing the same skill as a part of his clowning routines. Never before had anyone but the ringmaster sung, and yet Salero had a musical number in the show where he sang and played three instruments.

And worst of all, he spoke to no one.