One day Lucy Ricardo was strolling down the street around the shopping center area of New York City. She had her husband Ricky Ricardo's checkbook in her hand. She was pondering whether she would like to purchase a new hat or a new dress today, regardless of whether Ricky would approve the cost. Then suddenly she spotted a fairly new looking shop she hadn't noticed before sitting on the corner. It was an art and antique shop.
Curious, she entered the little shop and found a short, plump elderly woman standing behind the counter who looked toward her and asked, "May I help you?"
"No thanks," Lucy replied. "I'm just here to browse."
Lucy looked around at many paintings and other art pieces surrounding her. She found a painting of a cute little boy playing with a dog. She found a colorful painting of a double rainbow arch. She found a painting of an array of wild sunflowers. And many other assorted masterpieces. She began contemplating if she wanted to buy one. Then suddenly one particular painting caught her eye.
It was a painting of a clown with a white face and blue eyes with red hair sticking out at the sides. He was wearing a white outfit with red balls down the front and ruffles on his collar and sleeves. His face held a very sad expression with a frown that seemed to be one with him and his eyes were drooping almost lifelessly to the floor. His hands were folded in front of him in a melancholy gesture.
The old woman at the counter noticed Lucy staring at the painting for a long moment and became alert.
"You don't want to stare to long at that painting," she said solemnly. "It's the painting of the Tragic Clown."
Lucy turned her attention from the painting to the old woman. "Who was he?" she asked curiously.
The old woman's face grew very solemn and her voice was low and grim as she spoke. "He was a very popular clown living in New York fifty years ago. He had close affiliations with Burger Clown Partnerships Incorporated, but that relationship ended abruptly. He never fully recovered. He used to be the clown everyone loved and then somehow became the clown everyone despised. At around the same time his lover left him and was with his child and he could not take the hurt and after he cried a lot he killed himself. This painting was done after his death to commemorate his tragic life. And there is a legend that one who looks at it hard enough and long enough the grief of the Tragic Clown will spill off of the painting and into the heart of the looker and then his spirit will be aroused and will come to haunt them night and day to no end."
Lucy's eyes were wide as saucers as she listened to the old woman's tale. She was silent for a moment and then she said, "You mean they'd have a clown ghost as a roommate?"
"Well... speculatively, yes," replied the old woman.
Lucy stared at her blankly for a moment and then burst into laughter. "Oh, come now! " she hooted. "You don't honestly expect me to believe in that old wives tale you told me!
The old woman frowned. "It's up to you whether or not to believe it," she replied dryly. "But I am really only just telling the same tale I was told by the person who brought the painting in."
"Who was he?" asked Lucy.
"He was a descendant of the Tragic Clown from Jamestown. He said he had inherited the painting and that it felt so possessed every time he looked at it he had to sell it for fear the story would become reality to him."
"You know, I'm originally from Jamestown," said Lucy with interest. "You know what, I'd like to buy the painting and see whether or not the legend is just a myth or not."
"Are you sure?" asked the old woman. "If the legend proves to be true, you may find yourself with a permanent unwanted guest."
"I'm sure," Lucy replied. "I can handle clowns. In fact, according to my husband and friends I pretty much am a clown myself!"
