Jedwi Art Blog

Finwol, the Spacetime Clown

There once was a clown named Finwol whose obsession was to travel through the outer-reaches of spacetime. He had grown up an orphan in the streets of NYC, NY where he pretended to be a clown to make a living. People commonly threw food at Finwol in protest of his lack of cleanliness and were disgusted to watch him eat the food they threw at him off of the ground. This is the only way that Finwol ever knew to eat after being kicked out of the orphanage. The only person that was willing to deal with Finwol after he was kicked out for arguing with the other orphan children all night was a woman. This was the woman who gave birth to a boy named Minmey nine months after meeting Finwol. She started crying after seeing Finwol walking the streets in tattered clothing in the middle of the night while she was in the back of a cab in stand-still traffic. She ordered the cab driver to stop and started asking Finwol questions. Finwol did not understand her questions as she was sobbing uncontrollably, but he felt momentarily comforted after being brushed off by thousands of strangers who looked down on him due to his appearance and horrid smell. The woman was in the cab with her new husband. The husband ordered the cab driver to go as they were now holding up traffic.Finwol forever remembered their encounter. Before the cab screeched off and left Finwol in a cloud of tire smoke, the woman threw her purse out of the window. Finwol picked up the purse and found a collection of makeup. He had seen women at the orphanage covering themselves in makeup and thought he knew what to do. He covered his face in white makeup and put mascara on his eyebrows. He put the makeup back in the bag and kept searching. The boy found two thousand United States Dollars and a golden wedding ring. Realizing the value of the items he had found, Finwol looked around in paranoia. Traffic had reached a point of normalcy, and cars sped by him honking while Finwol collected his items. He ran with the purse to an alley where he found an old armoire that he had room to fit in. Finwol sat and cried, clutching the purse as he wondered what could happen next.

Twenty years had passed since Finwol had been permanently banished from the orphanage. Finwol still loved to cover his face in white powder and use mascara for his eyebrows. It was rumored that Finwol had a nasty cocaine addiction even though the drug of choice that he abused was fentanyl. Finwol could not understand why people were so against fentanyl, considering so many people around him constantly used and abused cocaine. Finwol had a personal opinion that he constantly argued: Caffeine is the gateway drug. Finwol had figured out a way to brew tea and coffee at the same time, mixing the two in a stew with a splash of half and half creamer. Finwol considered this concoction to be as commonplace as table salt, and people started asking him to brew this nonsense that he had figured out how to make by the age of five years old. Finwol was twenty-five years old when he started Caffeine Concoction, a business which instantly took off. He hated himself for starting the business after multiple reports of caffeine-induced psychosis in his customers surfaced in the news. But no one dare blame Caffeine Concoction as the problem. Finwol had tried fentanyl in trade school a few years before, and with the newfound fortune Finwol had at his fingertips, he gave up on his years of sobriety. Finwol gave up on his business, which was already self-sufficient, and bought an eight ball of fentanyl, convincing himself that he could limit his intake. As soon as his plug, the mother of Minmey, handed him the eighth ounce of fentanyl, he laid out half of bag onto the mirror that Finwol always kept handy. He sandwiched the fentanyl with a paper towel and the mirror in his jewelry box that he kept to conceal his fentanyl. He placed the bag that contained the rest of the fentanyl at the bottom of the jewelry box and placed the mirror-fentanyl sandwich atop of the bag. He thanked the mother of Minmey, closed the jewelry box, and darted out of her apartment in New York City, sprinting to the nearest hotel with the jewelry box full of fentanyl. 

Finwol slammed through the hotel lobby door shoulder-first. He slapped four thousand dollars in United States dollars and said, “Keep the change; I need a room.” The hotel manager had previously housed Finwol in his times of sobriety and was alarmed to see Finwol in such a rush.

The manager explained, “As a part of management, I am required to report all tips with a comment to corporate. What should I say?”

“Hospitality,” instantly replied Finwol, as he was already familiar with the system.

The hotel manager looked into the eyes of Finwol and noticed something was off. He thought about calling alerting the police of the suspicious behavior of Finwol, but he brushed it off and laughed as he remembered the good times that he had shared with Finwol during his sobriety. Finwol slowly grabbed the room key and calmly walked to the elevator. His room was on the eighty-fourth floor. Finwol pressed the button to go up and waited for a solid two minutes before the elevator reached the ground floor. When the elevator arrived, Finwol had his eyes closed and was alarmed to see hear the speaker on the elevator announce, “Ground floor.” Three women walked out in tears from laughter. One by one, they turned and gave Minmey a peck on the cheek and thanked him for the hilarious joke that he had told them. Finwol glared at Minmey in envy. Minmey glanced over Finwol and followed the women out of the lobby after calling his helicopter pilot for a ride. By this time, Minmey considered Finwol as merely a step-brother figure in his life. Finwol pressed the eighty-fourth floor button on the elevator with the corner of his jewelry box. When he reached his room, he fumbled with the jewelry box but made it in the room without spilling anything. For twelve straight hours, Finwol snorted what he considered to be “bumps” of fentanyl. After about half of a gram of the drug was gone, Finwol realized that his heart would likely stop if he continued. He walked down to the lobby and checked out. The manager had already clocked out and clocked back in to another shift. The manager kept his eyes on Finwol as he slowly walked out of the hotel with his jewelry box of fentanyl.

Even before his copious drug intake had begun, Finwol always had murderous thoughts. Thoughts of homicide constantly swam through the mind of Finwol. Five years ago,Finwol began to hate Minmey who had become a super famous astronaut who was always boasting that poor people were doomed to rot on this planet, Earth. Minmey had won the title of “Supreme Chancellor of the Universe” after a corrupt election where Minmey paid every elected official he knew nine billion spacetime dollars. For reference, one spacetime dollar was worth fifteen Bitcoin in the year two thousand twenty-one, the year in which spacetime dollars were introduced to the economy.Finwol absolutely despised Minmey and, as he departed from the hotel, pulled out his iPhone and started researching Minmey. Finwol began to plot the death of Minmey. Finwol saw that Minmey had another mission to the Moon planned for later that month. A grin appeared through the makeup-and-fentanyl-coated face of Finwol. He started maniacally chuckling and arranged an Uber to take him back to the shack that he had assembled around the old armoire he had found shelter in exactly twenty years ago. Finwol entered the shack and placed the jewelry box full of fentanyl in the armoire. He sat and pin-pointed the location of Minmey for the entirety of the day of his journey to the Moon.

Ten days passed, and the day of the Moon journey was here. Minmey was constantly being interviewed before his last slumber before departing. The plan was to launch the jet-engine-equipped capsule precisely four hours after Minmey woke up. Finwol sat with sweaty palms as he debated with himself on another line of fentanyl. In his days of preparation, Finwol had taken to tossing twenty-eight grams of fentanyl, each gram in a goody bag that said “Free Makeup” into the orphanage that had kicked him out. Finwol screamed as he finished the last eight ball of fentanyl he would ever snort. He kicked a kitten that he had taken a liking to as far as he could towards a pack of stray dogs that Finwol had been feeding fentanyl and rats to. The dogs slowly tore the kitten apart and Finwol cried in adoration of the scene he had created.

Finwol whispered, “And that is just how nature works, cat,” as he stood in adoration of the atrocity.

Finwol arranged what he correctly predicted to be his last Uber trip. He gripped his jewelry box which now had a loaded Desert Eagle pistol inside. As the Uber pulled up, a woman was on the phone with the police after reporting the incident of the kitten being ripped apart by stray dogs. She screamed as loud as she possibly could as she watched Finwol shoot and kill the Uber driver. She tried explaining what happened as she watched Finwol pull the Uber driver out of the car. Finwol flipped the woman who he recognized to be the mother of Minmey as he sped off through the alley, drifting around the corner that became West 57th Street. Finwol drove straight to the location of the launchpad.

Finwol replaced the round that had been fired at the Uber driver while driving down the road.

Finwol screamed, “You are mine, Minmey!”

As Finwol drove up to the launchpad where Minmey was sitting, awaiting his departure, he drove through a crowd of people. Blood dripped down from the top of the car until the windshield was completely covered.

Finwol smiled as he jokingly said, “Yay, one last car wash.”

When the blood was too much for Finwol to see out of the windshield, he opened the door and shot three police officers who were blocking the entrance of the launchpad. By that time, the launch sequence had begun. Finwol leaped over the police officers into the launchpad chamber, only momentarily dodging the heat and flames of the launch sequence. He opened the door of the capsule, shot Minmey in between the eyes, and tossed Minmey into the chamber. He closed the door and prepared for his journey to the moon. As the capsule lifted off of the Earth, Fortunate Son by Creedence Clearwater Revival started playing as the playlist that Minmey had compiled began. Minmey watched as one of his coveted Caffeine Concoction machines brewed a pot of his now famous brew. The machine rapidly cooled the brew and a bell dinged when the appropriate temperature was reached. Finwol had suspicions that Minmey loved his famous stew, and he smirked as he fought immense g-force to reach for the cup that the mixture had been poured in. He chugged the drink, and when the last drop reached his gullet, the Caffeine Concoction machine automation began again and brewed another cup. He eventually consumed ten consecutive cups of the sinful brew he had invented. Finwol then looked down and noticed the control panel.

He relished in his decision to take out Minmey and leave the Earth and all its creatures. An ounce of grief came out as he remembered the face of the mother of Minmey after she had watched his horrible day start. A tear dropped from his face into his empty cup.

Finwol yelled, “How is this even possible?”

A moment of peace set upon Finwol as he justified his decision to kill Minmey since, after all, it was the fifteenth time Minmey had traveled to the Moon. In the stolen spacetime capsule, Finwol gripped the acceleration lever. Finwol slammed the lever down to the dashboard of the control panel in the capsule. Since Finwol did not know anything about spacetime travel, he did not comprehend the consequences of this action. The spacetime capsule had been equipped with thrusters that shot Finwol to a hundredth of lightspeed. Adrenaline overtook Finwol as he crashed into the Moon and died.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The End