Ouchy the Clown

There once was a man who got tired of the S&M scene in San Francisco, the fact that at most clubs, S&M stood for "stand and model", so one night he dressed himself up in white face paint, a pointy hat, a neck ruffle, a leather harness, a thong and black boots, and went off to his regular haunts. He pissed off a lot of people, but a few were delighted and amused, and soon enough, surrounded with his PCP, or Porn Clown Posse, and dubbing himself "Ouchy the Clown", he was off doing events at various clubs and shows around the country.

I met Ouchy in a New Jersey dungeon, and we began chatting about art, pain, and the surrealistic combination of both in the universe. After about 20 minutes, he gestured towards the St. Andrew's cross, saying, "Marrus, I KNOW you want to get up on there and have me beat you."

"Um, no, actually", I responded, looking him slowly side to side.

Another five minutes went by. "Oh, c'mon. Get up there on that cross and let's get this party started."

And again from me, "Um, no thanks."

And then (knowing that I was going to be asked a third time), I began to reconsider. You know that game that everyone plays on Monday morning, "So what did YOU do this weekend?" And the answers generally fall along the lines of:

"Whoa, I got SO trashed."
" I woke up with this REALLY ugly guy."
"I finally took a shower."

Well, if I answered, "I stripped down in front of hundreds of people and was beaten until I cried by a sadistic clown", I'D WIN. Forever. And that was the deciding vote.

So I hopped up on the cross, offered my body, and in exchange, Ouchy took my mind for a ride. He strapped me up, and flogged me soundly, confused me with squeaky toys, then caught me over and over with the hot raindrops of a single tail, clipped clamps up and down my arms (shaped, I was told later, like little dentures), and that was when I lost it.

I refused to use a safe word with a clown. Stupid, I know, but I just couldn't.

He let me sob for a few minutes, and then took me down. I fell in an exhausted, shaking heap.

It was loads of fun.

When I could stand, and the clown made sure he hadn't done any damage other than the deeply psychological kind (he prides himself on that), I made my way slowly to where I found my friend being worked over on his OWN cross by two other members of the PCP - Evil Pippi and Muzzle the Mime. When they took him down, exhausted and shaking, I told of my experience with Ouchy.

He didn't hesitate a second and replied, "Marrus, I'll see your clown, and raise you a mime."

You can see more of my art and writings at www.marrusart.com. Find out more terrors of Ouchy at www.ouchytheclown.com.

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