I was abducted by a clown last week

This is probably a bad time to come forward with a story about being abducted, what with the recent brouhaha involving University of Wisconsin student Audrey Seiler's fake abduction. It's not like I planned to feel ready to talk about it right now. I just do, and whether people believe me or not, I won't keep the truth hidden any longer.

Last month, I was knocked unconscious from behind by an assailant. This person had colorful clothing, large shoes, and a pale face with dark red lips. To put it plainly, I was attacked by a clown. Luckily, the clown did not sexually molest me. He only moved me about a block from my apartment and then left me alone. I can't explain why.

Oddly enough, the clown didn't spray me with seltzer water, perform magic tricks, juggle rings, or use face paint to draw a kitten on my cheek. I'm unsure whether the clown made balloon animals, because it was windy that day, and they could have floated away while I was unconscious.

To tell you the truth, I can't explain why the clown attacked me. If he didn't do it for sexual gratification or a need for someone to not throw things at him while watching his god-awful show, then I don't know what it was for.

I didn't report the incident right away because I was scared, and I knew the police would never catch the clown. He looked too similar to so many other clowns I had seen at circuses and birthday parties over the years. How do you catch a clown when the crime scene doesn't involve bodily fluids? You don't, dear reader. You just don't. Clowns are difficult to track, especially in areas like La Crosse, which have lots of foliage where clowns can hide.

So I moved this frightening experience to the back of my mind, and went on with my life. I figured if I forgot about it, I'd never have to deal with it again. Oh, how wrong I was.

Last week, the evil clown returned. I was alerted to his presence when he repeatedly honked the bicycle horn he always carries with him, but by then it was too late. I panicked, running to the window to search for an escape, and just as I spotted his tiny car parked outside - a car far too miniature for any normal person to fit into - I felt his white clown gloves press a sharp knife against my throat.

The clown dragged me to a marsh, only to release me four days later. I wandered around the outskirts of the marsh - in plain sight of a variety of people - for days. Yet no one called the police. I was cold, scared, and dehydrated. The clown never hurt or molested me, but boy did those days of sitting around not being hurt or molested horrify me! Imagine what it would be like to sit around for days, not being injured or molested in any way!

In fact, my experience was very similar to the Audrey Seiler case, except nobody noticed I was gone, nobody called the police when I didn't show up to things, and nobody gave a rat's ass when I returned looking worse than before. In fact, one of my friends said, "Oh, you're back. I was kinda hoping you were dead."

I knew he was joking, and told him so. He said, "No, seriously. I'm not joking. I wish you were dead", and I scolded him, telling him this was no time for jokes. One isn't in a laughing mood after spending four days not being injured or molested by a clown. It took me a few days before I was able to tell my friend that I had been kidnapped, "held hostage" at different spots around the city for no apparent reason, and then brought to the marsh and released, also for no apparent reason.

I told him the story and asked him to notify the police. He said no. So did my other three friends. So I informed the police myself. When they refused to provide a sketch artist, I sketched a picture of the clown myself. The day before I had placed a knife, roll of duct tape, and some rope in the marsh, but the police refused to search the marsh.

Oops. I mean, the clown left his knife, duct tape, and rope somewhere in the marsh, and the police haven't searched for it yet. What? No, that's the truth. What do you mean? No, I don't remember what we did all four days he held me hostage. We just . . . he spent all the time holding me hostage, and I spent all the time being held hostage. No, we didn't play Chinese Checkers! What are you trying to say?

WHAT? No, I did not make this story up! There's a clown out there! I swear there is! An evil clown, and he's crazy! I won't be his last or only victim! There may be dozens of other people he's taken hostage and not hurt or molested! Dozens! Pay attention to me, damnit! Give me attention! I'm not a liar! Daddy never bought me a pony when I was little, and now I'm getting back at him! Give me attention! I need it, I CRAVE it! GIVE ME ATTENTION!

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