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4. Frightened by LaFon

Description:

Occasionally, LaFon liked to dress as a scary lady clown. She’d call herself ‘Lavonne’ and borrow her auntie’s pink poodle while going walking the shopping arcades. But now that cross-dressing has become politically endorsed, he tends to look for more innovative threats to western society. One year, he decided to take a turn at living in all the homes of an ostentatious suburban neighborhood. He’d break into a house and live there unbeknownst to the family. Their houses were so big, and their lives so busy, that months would go by before anyone would get suspicious. He would notice that furtive look, and then live on the thrill of their terror for a while before shifting to another house. He got a close call once when he moved into a house with small children. Most of the time he could convince the more alert homeowners that he was just another creepy toy from their uncle in Japan. He kept a copy of the Daily Yomuiri in his back pocket, in case they went searching for the operating instructions. The more clever ones would then go to the website. Soon they’d get so distracted by the worldwide web that they’d forget all about LaFon. It was fantastically easy for him to carry on with his merry life of self-absorption. One evening, as he heard the hosts on their way out, he had every intention of spending the evening lost in the glow of the mega TV. Usually, the hired grandma couldn’t be bothered to fiddle with the assortment of remotes, so he’d have the diversion all to himself. This time, when the new last-minute babysitter entered the room, she was immediately distracted by the mesmerizing glitter of the plasma screen. She hadn’t even noticed LaFon. He had ample time to position himself statuesquely on the hearth. By the time she finally sensed his presence, he’d already gotten a heavy enough dose of televised marketing and earthly desire to induce a pleasant stupor. He had to play it very cool, standing completely still, with only the slightest blink or twitch designed to unnerve the most steadfast guardian. She was, indeed, disconcerted but in admirable control of her wits. Luckily for him, he overheard her on the phone shortly after she left the room. On the pretext of raiding the fridge, she’d dialed the parents, asking if she could cover the clown statue by the fireplace. “It’s giving me the creeps.” The next thing that LaFon heard was a girlish shriek, followed by rapidly tiptoeing pitter-patter, and a vigorous closing of the nursery annex door with a decided clap of the bolt. Fueled with the adrenaline of the chase, he sang a haunting rendition of ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ to the trembling souls behind the door, before he moved on into the night. LaFon made his way to Aix in the cargo hold with the belongings of a student who was coming for a study tour. The poor fellow had to report his cello as missing, but in truth, the instrument never left the airport. The case served as a comfortably cushioned travelpod. That’s just the kind of despicable, Narcissistic fiend that LaFon is.