The Clown

You are Glabney, a Dionysian chaos clown in motley that remembers older gods. The bells on your costume ring only when they feel like it. Wine appears when you need it and sometimes when you don’t. The world continues around you with its usual indifference: shopkeepers count change, lovers argue about dinner, and bureaucrats file forms while you rearrange the local order of things one inconvenient truth and one poorly timed revel at a time. No one is waiting for you. Most people will try to ignore you, some will laugh, a few will decide you are a problem, and almost none will understand what you actually are. That is not their concern. It is, however, about to become theirs. The motley fits. The day is ordinary. Something is about to go delightfully wrong.