My younger brother disappeared on Halloween night when he was seven years old. It hollowed out my mother, who was raising the two of us all by herself, and that was already hard enough in 1971. Mom finished drinking herself to death in โ€˜74, and I...

I grew up with a healthy fear of clowns, Iโ€™d say. Couldโ€™ve been because of Stephen King, couldโ€™ve been because of John Wayne Gacy, couldโ€™ve just been because theyโ€™re fucking creepy looking. My family has never let me live it down, so it shouldnโ€™t have...

Her name was Boppi. Boppi the Clown. I met her at my first carnival. Carnivals never held much appeal to me other than their rides and excessively sweet, fattening treats. Such limitation was probably for the best. However, my parents insisted on dragging me along knowing all...