Bayport High was quiet since it was Christmas break and no one in their right mind would think of school when the Arctic decided to make its home in Bayport for the holiday season. Two weeks of break and that was it before he had to go back to school and Frank, back to Harvard. Sometimes, he wished that Frank could just settle for Bayport University but he guessed that even he would not want to end up in BU unless it was strictly necessary. It was not that BU was not a good college- it was a full-fledge University with modern facilities, spacious grounds and plenty of frat houses for Joe to choose from. However, he did feel like he wanted out of the bustling town and into somewhere foreign for some adventure.

"Am I feeling this way because of her?" He wondered out loud, not fearing that anyone would hear him. Joe Hardy zipped up his parka and brought his legs up onto the plush red armchair of the school's theatre, huddling himself into a cramped ball.

The auditorium was empty saved himself. Always the athlete, he only discovered how conducive the quiet hall was for thinking aloud when he took part in a play last year, acting as the Duke of Kent in King Lear- a nobleman tired of fake social graces, charmingly blunt in his speech, and always the good man who was true to himself. Frank read his analysis of the Duke (a study of each thespian's characters was required, no, demanded, by the drama teacher) and jokingly asked Joe if he was writing about the person he thought he was.

And Joe simply replied that he was writing about the person he felt the Duke was. Frank then looked at him for the longest time and smiled strangely before he left Joe to his business. He had always wanted to ask his elder brother what was the thought behind the irritatingly enigmatic smile but always forgot about it. Now, like countless times before when the urge to question surface in his mind again, Joe made a mental note to remind him to ask Frank later.

He was glad he did the play. It opened his eyes to a new side of him that he never imagined he possessed. He did not know he could act and the girls were definitely impressed, which was not too bad an icing on the cake.

Sometimes, he wondered if he lived to experience new things. He knew he would be terribly bored one day if someone told him he had to do a single job for the rest of his life in order to survive.

Heavy dark curtains made of lush velvet were drawn back to reveal the stage made of reddish-brown wood that was polished and varnished regularly. Joe gazed at it and remembered the grueling days he had to endure trying to remember lines. He had a terrible memory and gingko nuts did not work for him. However, in the end, with Frank and Vanessa's help, he managed to not only convince people that Shakespearean English was a native tongue of his, he also touched many by, what the school paper termed, his candid portrayal.

"How funny. Have I become the Duke that night or did the Duke came alive in me, borrowing my body to tell his story?"

If someone else had been there, he or she would have thought Joe to be quite mad to be talking to himself. But Joe liked to think things aloud and in solitude. He was not as thick as some nasty people liked to say- anyone would seem a little slow next to Frank. He just needed time away to thrash out ideas before he make his stand, especially when he needed to think about complicated thoughts.

Complicated thoughts like Vanessa getting angry at him for the past few weeks for no apparent reason. Maybe she, just as free-spirited as him, was tired of the relationship that kept her to only one choice. Maybe he too had the case of the wandering eye but whatever it was, he began to doubt the veracity of their love.

"YOU CAN BE SO OBLIVIOUS!" Vanessa yelled at him when they were at her porch. The whole date had been terrible for he had made one little mistake and she gave him a hard time throughout the evening.

"I'm not. I was just distracted by that remote control car in the shop window." Joe growled under his breath, trying to keep his cool which was very difficult to accomplish. It was no use holding on to his head when anger was already flushing in his cheeks.

"So, Polly will think I have an arrogant bastard for a boyfriend. Why can't you greet her?"

"Coz I didn't see her! She's too skinny."

"She saw you behind me. ARGHH!" Vanessa threw her hands up in the air before she stormed into her house and slammed the door in his face.

"Why don't you greet my friends? Why can't you clean up yourself? Do you live in Mars?" Joe mimicked his girlfriend's long list of complaints about him. Maybe it was time to re-examine the relationship. Iola never raised her voice at him before…

Iola. And old flame that still burned at the wounds. Memories must be the greatest enemy of Time. It faded but the ache would always remain because he would always remember. However, thankfully, he was beginning to be able to remember the times of long ago with a sweet sadness rather than depression. He was doing fine, if he should say so himself.

"I'm me. I'm messy and disorganized. I like to dream. I forget to pick up after myself all the time. I thought when you love someone, you won't force that person to change for you." He groused to no one in particular and pouted. He knew he was the messy sort of person but he was an organized, messy being. He may not file up his notes, preferring to stack them up, but he exactly where they were if anyone should ask. Every inch of his mess to him was order. But Vanessa, being a neat freak almost as bad as Frank, could not understand. He admitted he could be tidier but there was no way he could be as tidy as her. He could die trying and still not succeed.

"If she loves me, she won't expect me to change." Joe concluded with resolution. A nagging thought at the back of his mind told him he was just making up excuses for being an untidy, messy person.

"If you love her, you'll want to change for her!" A cheery, flippant voice echoed back his statement but made important changes that twisted the original meaning a hundred and eighty degrees. Joe sharply turned his head to the direction of the voice and noticed a pointed end of a hat with a bell attached to its tip poking out from behind the stage's curtains.

"Looky, Looky! I'm here okie dokie!" The pointed end jutted out more to reveal more similar pointed ends and a funny face painted like a clown's- white all over with bright red lipstick, crosses for eyes and pink cheeks. After glancing around furtively with an impish smile on his lips, the clown, no more than five-feet two in height, yelped happily and cart-wheeled to the middle of the stage. His colorful costume-a one piece jumpsuit made from the same material as the rainbow- soon became a rolling blur of strange hues for Joe.

"Oh goody, goody gosh! Look at the clown fly! Yippee! It's good to be free!" Now, the clown had stopped his acrobatics and was doing jumping jacks. Joe unfolded his legs to the floor and stood up slowly. Walking up to the stage with a baffled expression on his handsome face, his blue eyes, which narrowed in confusion, glinted like displaced stars in the night. Yet, he was terribly inquisitive at the same time though a logical deduction that came to his mind was that the silly clown was an escaped patient from Bayport's Institute of Mental Health, or rather, the Loonybin to some callous people.

The clown broke the monotony he was feeling like the sudden appearance of joker from a stuffy deck of poker cards.

I'm not dreaming, am I? Pinch thyself. Ouch, it hurts.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" Joe cocked his head and stared up at the jumping clown who, having heard the question, stopped his exercise regime. He slumped cross-legged onto the stage's floor and knitted his brows in puzzlement to mock Joe's questioning expression.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" The clown imitated Joe in a feigned, stupid tone which raised Joe's ire.

"Don't be a buffoon! Stop imitating me!"

"Don't be a buffoon! Stop imitating me!" The clown stared dumbly at Joe and then grinned like a Cheshire Cat.

"Hey! Cut it out!" Joe, exasperated, gesticulated wildly. He was certain then that he was talking to a mad man.

"Hey! Cut it out!" The clown shrilled in his silly high-pitched tone before he shook his head like a wobbly-neck doll and the bells on his many points hat jingled softly like cows' bell. If it was not for the bizarre meeting, Joe would have found the chimes very soothing indeed.

"What a silly man." Joe swore under his breath and was about to walk away when the clown stood up and did a little dance.

"What a silly man!" He laughed gaily, liking that comment about himself. Seemingly like a puppet who was finally freed from his restraining strings, the clown shook his limbs one by one as if to test if they would really work on their own after which he shook his body violently and then hopped around the stage, jumping up, clicking his heels together at intervals.

"What a silly man! What a silly man!"

"Oh! Just shut up! You're giving me a headache!" Joe snapped at the rambling idiot who turned around to face Joe and stopped his rhapsody. He walked towards the edge of the stage and gazed down to stare into Joe's face. Joe glared back up. Irritation met with curiosity and after a moment, the clown broke away from the eye-contact and laid down on his stomach, propping his head up with his hands resting on their elbows on the stage's floor. His head was close to the edge of the stage and he was almost at eye-level with Joe.

The mirth was wiped all away from the clown's painted face and without the humor, the paint works resembled a botched attempt by an avant-garde artist trying to paint a masterpiece. On a deeper level, Joe thought the clown was an exaggerated, grotesque imitation of the image of a human being.

Suddenly, he pitied the clown. If he was not being laughed at, he would be poking fun at other people and nobody really loved clowns because nobody could understand them.

Feeling guilty at being harsh with his tone earlier on, Joe stood with hands akimbo and decided to be nice. "Ok, let's start all over again. Who are you and what do you want? Why have you come here? To find me? Coz you know I'll be here?" He asked the stream of questions as politely as he could with an arched, curious brow. Suddenly, he was obsessed with the urge to touch the clown's hat and jingle the bells but that was a childish habit of his to want to touch everything. Stopping himself because he was not sure if he would offend the clown, he waited for the clown's reply and thought the serious expression on the jester's serious mien was so contrary to his gaudy get-up.

The clown's face wrinkled up and Joe, with an instinct as to what would come next, gingerly stepped back.

The clown started bawling loudly.

"Boo-hoo! You asked me a question I can't answer! Who am I? What do I want? You may as well ask me where I come from and where am I to go! Boo-hoo! I don't know! Who am I? Who made me? What do I exist for? Boo-Hoo! Boo-hoo!" He started thrashing about, flailing his hands up and down, leaving poor Joey scratching the back of his head and biting his lips in helplessness.

The jester struggled up and wiped at his tearing eyes. The cosmetic he used must be of a premium brand because it did not wash away with the saline flowing down from beady black orbs. Pressing a hand to his chest, the clown looked up at the ceiling with small chandeliers hanging from the beams and twisted a tragic number to a popular song.

"Do you know where you're going to?
Do you like the things that life is showing you
Where are you going to?
Do you know...?"

Joe cringed. The clown sniffed and then beckoned Joe to come up the stage to join him. Joe pressed his lips together, a little wary of the funny, little man but, in a haste to stop the crying, he obliged. He heaved himself up on stage, thanks to his strong arm muscles, and joined the clown, a little frightened and yet, excited at what this encounter would bring.

Once up on the stage, he also felt a sense of exhilaration. Even though there was not any audience, the fact that he was up on stage made a difference to his mood. Looking down at the empty seats that sprawled out in front of him, he re-captured the feeling he had last year when he was acting up there for all's enjoyment. He felt unique from everyone else, felt different in a way that touched the very core of his soul. Though a part of him knew he was just an actor, a magical sensation took over him and he knew he was walking through an experience none of them would be able to replicate. In that fantasy the thespians weaved for themselves, Joe traveled back into old, pre-Christian England and lived in it, almost like he was possessed by the Duke of Kent- not the most prominent role and certainly not as entertaining as the king's fool. However, it was still challenging enough for Joe to savor each and every moment he was on stage.

Being on stage was like being on a different world and it was terribly exciting, bringing a rush of blood to his head. However, he knew that when the lights came out, he would only be an exhibit in people's mind to talk about for a while and then forget as naturally as anyone would forget yesterday's news. That saddened him greatly. Only he would remember himself as the Duke of Kent as interpreted by him for the rest of his life.

"Join me. Humor me. A clown needs his humor or… or…" The clown stifled and hiccupped. Breathing in deeply, he finished his sentence with much effort and fear. "HE CAN'T BE A CLOWN! BOO-HOO!"

"Ok, ok! I'll join you…. Sheesh! You're just like child, Clown!"

The clown's face brightened as if Joe had spoken a magical word to break the spell of sudden grief. He tilted his head and beamed happily, fluttering his eyelids in rapid successions.

"CLOWN! I'm CLOWN! YOU can me CLOWN coz that's who I AM!" He alternated between yelling and whispering, making Joe feel very giddy indeed. The jingles were not helping too, chiming incessantly with each jerky movements of the joker. Suddenly, Clown smacked the side of his head so hard that Joe was afraid brains would fall out from the other side of Clown's head from the tiny ear.

"Ah… well… if you insist. Ok… so we know your name now. I'm Joe Hardy and I'm please to meet you." Joe stretched out a hand and the clown scrutinized it for a prolonged period before studying the rest of Joe like he was a specimen under a microscope.

"Your hands are dirty! You don't like to wash your hands after you fiddle with your car's engine! I can't shake a dirty hand! Besides, you're sounding more and more like Alice! What an annoying girl!" Clown complained and Joe found it ridiculous. Who was Alice? And she must be quite a talented girl for it would be such a feat to annoy someone who seemed to be able to irritate others just by breathing.

"Hey! Don't be rude and fussy! I didn't comment about your lousy choice in colors!" Joe snatched his hand back and scolded Clown. Clown clasped his hands behind his back, and hummed a happy tune as he frivolously swung from side to side.

"HELLO!" Joe waved a hand in front of Clown's face to gain his attention.

"La la la la la la la la la la la …" Smuff's theme. Clown was humming Smuff's theme song. It was strange how just one little tune could drag Joe's childhood from the recesses of his mind and he felt himself missing the cartoons from his past- all brightly colored and innocent. Good and evil was clearly cut and heroes always saved the days.

As if reading his mind, Clown started marching in place. "HERE I COME TO SAVE THE DAY! THAT MEANS THAT MIGHTY MOUSE… IS ON HIS WAY!"

"When there is a wrong to right… Mighty Mouse will join the fight. On the sea or on the land… wait a minute!" Joe exclaimed when he realized he had inadvertently continued the cartoon song from Clown, nodding his head to the beat and punching his right fist in the air as he did it. Embarrassed at his childish display, he brought his palms to his cheeks now flushing red.

The clown smiled serenely and it was pretty eerie when a clown did that. Joe squirmed a little, overwhelmed by the craziness so much more intense than his own.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, my child. You have no reason to be ashamed for being a child once again. In fact, you should not be shameful of anything except sins. A wise man once told me his mother told him that. Do you know who the wise man was?" The clown spoke beatifically and asked Joe with wisdom glinting in those small black orbs. Joe suddenly felt very young and ignorant but bursting with wonder. He took his hands down and slowly shook his head, pondering over the meaning behind the message.

Clown kept silent for a moment and bowed his head, as if paying his deepest respects to a dear friend who had passed away. "The man is…" He looked up at Joe and then, just as Joe thought the answer was coming, the clown widened his eyes and stepped very close to Joe.

"You must come here for it's a secret. I want to whisper it in your ears."

Joe obeyed and leaned over so the clown could do what he wanted.

"Shh…. Don't tell Mary Poppins….the man is… I…" Clown stopped whispering and stepped away and grinned mischievously.

"I FORGOT WHO IT IS! YIPPEEE!"

Joe exhaled loudly and wore a weary expression on his face as he watched Clown spun around the room with his hands outstretched like the wings of an airplane that was aimlessly circling the sky.

"You're certainly very strange!" Joe remarked when the Clown appeared right in front of him again.

"And you're looking old! Why that dreary look! Open your eyes! Smile! Life's amazing. Aren't you amazed? Never mind. Wait here!" The clown raised a hand to halt Joe and dashed back behind the curtains. Joe, a little taken aback by the cryptic messages in between the acts of lunacy, stood rooted to where he was. A moment later, the clown came skipping out with a camera, obviously with very expensive lens, hung around his neck.

"Do a nice pose for me!" The clown cajoled and Joe teetered back a little, away from Clown whom he was astounded at but afraid of at the same time. It was then he realized he was close to being frozen. Clown seemed to be extremely comfortable though with nothing more than just a one-piece costume.

"Oh c'mon! You're afraid of a little clown like me?" He taunted Joe who was insulted and indignant at the remark.

"No! Of course not. All right…" Joe stretched his hands out and gave a half-shrug. "How's this?"

"Purrfect, as the Cheshire Cat will say. But you look nicer than him now. He's pretty depressed when he lost two of this teeth fighting with the Jack of Spades the other day. OK!" Clown rambled on as he fiddled with the camera settings while trying to focus on Joe and without much ado, simply snapped a picture of Joe who was taken by surprise as he was still waiting for "Say Cheese."

"Not fair! I'll look like a fool!" Joe protested, wanting another shot.

"Better be a fool who question to learn more than an intelligent being who stopped questioning, thinking he knows everything. The former is wise and the latter an idiot." Clown mused again in that coded manner of speech before he walked over to where Joe was and lifted the camera off over his head. He offered it to Joe like he was offering sweets.

"There! Take this!"

"I can't…" Joe stammered and waved his hands in courteous rejection. It was too expensive a gift to accept from a stranger. Because of his own background as well, he half-expected it to be rigged to a miniature bomb.

"Sure you can! Hold it for me! I need to go pee and I don't want to get it wet! It's the wrong length for me!" Clown practically pushed the camera into Joe's tummy, shocking Joe with his strength. Seeing that Clown was about to release his hands, Joe swiftly held on to the camera tightly.

"I'm off to the toilet! The trip starts with the mailman!" Clown announced and scampered off. Joe, dumb-founded by the whole experience, once again was left behind in slack-jawed speechlessness as Clown, with a yelp, jumped off stage and ran out of the auditorium, slamming the heavy door shut.

What has just happened? Did I doze off and started dreaming? No…the camera's here….

The underside of the camera felt a little "paperish" to the touch, like it was stuck over with paper. Joe, aware of it, turned the expensive camera upside down carefully and saw a piece of paper stuck to the bottom with letterings too small to make out.

Amazing! Must be some high-tech printing.

He thought for a while, knowing that the message must be of utmost importance and with a strong hunch, he knew that the message was meant for him. The clown must have been waiting for him so early in the morning in the auditorium and he must be instigated by someone who knew Joe Hardy loved to visit the empty auditorium when he needed to think things through.

"How I wish I have a magnifying glass… wait! I do!" Joe proclaimed aloud, proud because he thought of the solution to the puzzle all by himself. Why would the paper be stuck to the camera, left for him to find? Putting two and two together, the idea came to him as naturally as day followed the night. He sat down cross-legged onto the floor and with atypical carefulness, peeled the message off from the camera. Then, he set the camera aside again with much care and flattened the paper onto the wooden boards that made up the stage floors with grains that seemed to trace into the lands of forever, bringing forth new images from time and space long passed or yet to come onto the small, humble stage.

"Okies... now to work." He muttered under his breath, his teeth chattering a little. When the madness had passed, the coldness came back to bite at him. Ignoring the temperature, he picked up the camera and focused it on the piece of paper, fiddling around with the lens and the focus function until the letterings on the message became large enough to be read.

Oh yonder fair stranger, how crazy it must be! Care to find out who you are, why you're here and where you're going? Eternal riddles must be answered, could it be by you? Alas, you mustn't be jaded yet, nay, like a child you must wonder. Never fear for always know you're one amazing little miracle.

An answer to a riddle being asked in another time and space,

Is found in the above message but you should not worry about that.

Take heed though because once you stop being amazed like a child,

Life becomes a humdrum drone and you'll never learn to live.

Tis' a gift for you. Use it to capture Life for many let it slip without knowing.

As if on cue, the sound system came alive and Diana Ross sung to him from a CD.

Do you know where you're going to?
Do you like the things that life is showing you...
Where are you going to?
Do you know...?

"Nope! But I hope it's going to be fun!" Joe grinned and thought to himself what a delightful mystery before Christmas he was going to solve.