The Clown, part 2

With our coffees in hand, we got back on the road.

Brad had been very quiet., so when he spoke I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Who told you?"

"Who told me what?"

"Where we're going."

"Nobody. I have no idea where we're going."

"Then how come you--" He shook his head. "Nevermind."

"O-kay," I drawled out. "You are acting really weird, dude."

He nodded slowly, as if in a daze, and we didn't speak again for another thirty minutes or so.

A tall white sign came into view. It looked like there was a giant clown on it. I sat up straighter, seeing the words Clown Motel. 

"Shut. Up."

"Surprise," Brad said softly.

"Shut the freak up!" I laughed.

We pulled into the parking lot of a charming old motel. The wooden slat walls were sky blue with white trim. Each door was adorned with its own clown. I squealed and dashed out of the car. "An entire motel devoted to clowns? This has got to be a dream!" I could barely contain my joy, bouncing up and down on my toes. Brad handed over my bag and we went inside.

I stopped just inside the door and gasped. The lobby was wall to wall clown kitsch, from tiny snow globes to lunchboxes to magazines. This place was perfect!

"Welcome to the Clown Motel," the clerk announced. He was smiling like a loon. I knew how he felt. How could you not be overcome with happiness every time you walked in the door of this place? Clowns were the symbol of my childhood. My dad had been a professional clown and he had taught me everything he knew. I could juggle, tumble and mime my way into children's hearts everywhere. Well, at least in the hospital where I volunteered.

As Brad checked us in I took a closer look at all the adorable collectibles. From the corner of my eye something caught my attention. I turned my head and froze. There, sitting before me on a chair, was a life-size clown doll or mannequin, It was the same clown from my dream!