- Books, Literature, and Writing»
- Commercial & Creative Writing»
- Creative Writing
What Will Sammy Do Now? flash fiction by cam
Sammy the Singing Clown
I must be going crazy. Either that or reality has become a very strange thing. I can't move. I can’t see, but there doesn't seem to be anything covering my eyes. I hear a crowd laughing. Someone is talking to them, and they're applauding. What's going on that’s so damned entertaining? Things are getting hazy. I’m blacking out again. It’s the same weird routine every time I wake up. What is happening to me?
I’m awake again, and this time I can move. As a matter of fact, I’m crawling around on the floor. Why the hell did I just bark like a dog? People are laughing. The voice of the man speaking to the crowd is familiar. I remember it from the other times I’ve been awake.
“Who’s up next, Johnny?”
“Well, Steve, it’s Joe from Albuquerque. It's your lucky day, Joe, you’re the next contestant on “What Will Sammy Do Now?”
Who’s Sammy, and who is Joe from Albuquerque? This sounds like some kind of TV game show. Have I ever watched a TV game show? I don’t remember. In fact, I can’t remember anything. Who am I?
“Okay Joe, what’ll it be? What Will Sammy Do Now?”
“I want him to dress up like a clown and sing in an opera voice.”
The crowd is laughing again, laughing at Sammy. Why does Joe want Sammy to do something so stupid? And why do these people think it’s funny?
“Haha, that’s good Joe. We’ll just take a station break so Sammy can get changed into his clown outfit, hahaha, and then Sammy is going to sing for us.”
Steve has me by the arm, and he’s taking me somewhere. Why am I awake for so much longer this time? I hope I can get some answers before I black out again.
“Here Sammy, put these clothes on. And make it quick. We only have a couple of minutes. When you’re ready, a make up person is going to paint your face like a clown.”
I’m Sammy? Why am I doing what he says? I’m actually changing into the clothes he gave me. I should be running like hell right now, except I wouldn't be able to see where I was going.
“You look great Sammy. Let’s go, your fans await.”
Sammy's Restraint Chair
“Welcome back everyone. As you can see, Sammy really likes to clown around, hahaha. Sammy, here are your instructions. We want you to take the microphone and sing like an opera singer. Don’t worry about words, just make something up that sounds Italian, hahaha”
Everyone is laughing at me. I’m Sammy, and I’m the entertainment on some kind of twisted reality show. Oh my god, I’m singing like a complete idiot, and everyone is roaring with laughter. Who are these people? Who would do something like this?
“Hahaha, stop Sammy, I can’t take any more. Hohoho. Well folks, that’s it for this week. Join us again next week when we find out, What Will Sammy Do Now?”
Steve has me by the arm again.
"Where are you taking me now, you bastard?"
“Did you just say something, Sammy? Holy crap, your voice sounds like a croaking frog. It’s no wonder, I don’t think you’ve spoken since we started this ridiculous show. But hey, your fans love you, hahaha.”
Steve is putting me into a chair and strapping me down. I hear footsteps.
“Hi Doc. Hey, I think maybe Sammy here needs to have his drug dose increased. He tried to talk a few minutes ago. We can’t have this guy waking up. We’ve still got half a dozen more shows to do this season.”
“No problem Steve. I’ll just increase the dosage by ten percent, and we’ll see how he does.”
“Thanks Doc. So, how long was Sammy in the cryo chamber?”
“Fifty years. He was in prison for life, so they decided to freeze him instead of feed him.”
“What was his crime?”
“Crimes against the State. Espionage.”
“He was a spy?”
“Yes. That’s why his memory was wiped out. He knew things that the government didn’t want anyone to know.”
“What happened to his eyes?”
“They wanted him to be as handicapped as possible in case he ever escaped. Apparently he was a slippery character. They couldn’t put him to death because capital punishment had already been repealed nationwide. So they clipped his optic nerves.”
“Well, the CryoCon program sure has been good for the new wave of reality shows. Give these guys and gals enough of that drug you’ve got there and they’ll do anything.”
Cryo chamber? Prison? Espionage? Memory erased? Blind? I was some kind of top level spy and now they have me crawling around on the floor, barking like a dog.
“You’d better give him the shot Doc. I think he can hear what we’re saying.”
“Sure Steve. I’ll do it right now.”
No, I can’t black out now. Ouch! Oh god, no. That damned drug is taking me away again. I’ll get out of this mess some day. I’ll get even.
I’m awake again, and we’re doing another show. They may be carrying this a little too far. I’m naked, standing on a diving platform with a pool thirty feet below, and I can’t see a thing. I wonder if I even know how to swim.