Johnny Action Figure
Good Eye
By Christopher Duda
(SugarBuzz Toronto)
Sugarbuzzbuzzbuzz Magazine
I met Satan this weekend at the eighth circle of hell located at a crowded, over chlorinated waterpark. My eyes were singed a dark hue of red and I myself resembled some satanic minion. My wallet was continually sodomized by paying for overcooked food amidst roaring gorillas under plastic palm trees.
Upon arriving on the Saturday I was ushered out of the wave pool by zit filled horny teenagers. I immediately thought that someone must be drowning or having some epileptic seizure. Not so, to my chagrin. We all stepped out of the pool like obedient little breeders waiting for the signal to be given to dive back in. At this point it was easily observed that the teenager was fishing out a healthy piece of shit. Now the reason I use
the term “healthy” is I am sure that the level of chlorine probably fried out any contaminates to the point that it probably was edible. New Weight Watchers snack only 1 point!
Canned music was played over the speaker system almost rendered inaudible by the screaming meemee’s and the orgasmic screams of parents as their wallets were further gouged by over priced drinks.
It was from the corner of my eye I spotted a slow moving sloth resembling John Wayne Gacy the infamous serial killer. Armed with an ancient RCA video recorder possibly filming his overweight grandchildren but also possibly filming children frolicking in the quasi surf. A life guard blew his whistle (almost popping his zit filled head) letting the ancient sloth figure know that there was no filming on the premises . The puss filled whistle blower had awoken me from my slumber in the overheated hot tub. I scooped up my skin and tucked it in my pocket for further examination.
I guess the reality exists that a John Wayne Gacy character could dress up as Pogo the clown and tantalize his dancing white wiener in some perverse 
Speedo wearing over fitting grape vine sack. However I am confident that super pimply geeks would awake from their teenage hangovers and take down Pogo the Clown and make him squeal like Ned Beatty.
Now you see I don’t particularly like clowns as is. Pogo the Clown was particularly scary because Gacy was a monster that seemed to like young men and boys. I always had a fear of clowns from an early age. I can recall standing on the street watching some lame parade when a clown would appear in front of my face laughing and trying to hand me some cyanide filled sucker. Damn clowns think they have the license to do what they want. Next time a clown comes up to me giggling and sputtering I will take the fucker down! Aghast! that lunatic just took Chuckles down with a firm uppercut. I will market anti-clown t shirts and 
start a political party based on the theory that clowns are evil. I will probably get into office on that platform alone! What lurks behind that white pancake patter? Could be anyone could be Pogo. The mystery deepens. As I watched my children sliding down the tubes in rafts it soon became apparent that if I turned my head and rested it on my shoulder I could officially deduce what was being pumped through the P.A speakers. Steely Dan graced us with “Ricky Don’t Lose That Number”. I watched as other zombie like parents followed suit and placed their heads on their shoulder and nodded in approval. Pogo the Clown with his RCA video recorder in hand actually attempted to dance resembling a cow that had just been shot in the head ready to adorn our dinnerware.
Out of sheer desperation I needed to filter out what had become white noise. I quickly adorned my I pod and promptly listened to an album that I was asked to review. …….
Horror of all horrors the picture that accompanied their music was that of the band posing with a painting of a clown and worse yet their press release mentioned that they were
frequently compared to Steely Dan! My mind felt like it was just sucked through a paper towel roll filled with ice. Shapes and sounds became distant as I floated above the waves of cellulite and excess.
As I numbly floated in my sub rosa confinement I started to tap my foot, this soon led to me break dancing on the pool deck. Hell, I was on a roll I did the jerk, the chicken, the frug, the mashed potato. I was getting into this band with the strange name of Johnny Action Figure. They were a guilty pleasure like spreading candy floss on my loins and having the neighborhood cats lick it off. I screamed out “Johnny Action Figure” but was soon awoken by a tiny voice saying “dad stop it you’re embarrassing me”.