The Curse of the Clown Motel

My grandmother Kaku used to tell me stories

passed down from our ancestors about the chindi,

which was a Navajo word for ghost.

But unlike Casper, the chindi was an unstoppable,

all-consuming evil force, exacting vengeance

for wrongs against our people.

Rough day, huh?

Serves 'em right.

Trying to take all that land and keep it for themselves.

Only good Indian is a dead Indian, right?

-Cheers. -Yeah, how in the hell would you guys know?

You weren't out there with us.

What?

What we did wasn't very sporting.

It's a shame those elders weren't with us from the beginning,

especially that young one, he had some fire to him.

What's done is done.

Amen, Captain.

Amen.

Who's this?

Get him!

I don't know how you've done this,

but this isn't the last of me.

Feet.

Yeah.

You know, I admire your little church, Ana.

You people always seem to find a way to stay alive.

We have to, Mr. Wilson.

We were here long before you, we'll be

here when you're gone.

Well, first of all, I'm not going anywhere.

I mean, you wouldn't believe how many offers

I've had on this motel.

I've turned 'em all down.

Why didn't you people make an offer

back when I bought the place?

We weren't considered white enough

to make an offer, Mr. Wilson.

Yeah.

There is that.

But I can tell you this. If I ever sell this motel,

I'm gonna make sure whoever buys it knows

what kind of staff comes with it and how valuable you people are.

After all that, are you saying you wouldn't let us make an offer on this place?

No, I'm saying that I don't think your collection plate

is deep enough to buy this property.

You don't know anything about how deep

our collection plate is, Mr. Wilson.

Ana, calm down.

You don't wanna be attacking your boss

and getting fired the same day your company arrives.

Alma is here?

You know, I never even knew you had kids, Ana.

That's because you never asked, Mr. Wilson.

I had been gone long enough.

I had to return to where I grew up and do what I could

to bring to light the atrocities

committed against my Greasewood ancestors.

Well, fuck me.

Now I know what they meant by the Clown Motel

Challenge online.

And from the outside of it...

looks like I'm not getting any sleep tonight.

Hey!

Hey, Joe!

Well, it's good to know the members

of Kaku's cult have really aged well.

Joe Bamford.

Still sulks.

And that outfit has yet to be washed.

Alma, Alma.

Your childhood, nothing has changed.

Well, maybe the bang job.

But the clowns?

They're still here.

Well, this is new.

Quite a collection, huh?

Yeah.

It's gotten a lot bigger since I was a kid.

Well, it was probably well before I bought the motel.

Well, the last time I was here, I was eight.

It's like 15 years ago.

I got a few minutes now, if you want to have that talk

that you asked me for.

Yeah.

Good.

This place looks smaller.

Well, you probably grow a lot in 15 years.

I don't remember that wall being there.

Is that a new door?

You got a good eye, Miss Perez.

We did a remodel a couple of years ago.

Put some plumbing behind that wall

and made some additions on that one.

So you're here doing research for a college paper, huh?

Are you up for it?

It's for a business class?

This is for my graduate thesis.

Cultural anthropology.

Graduate thesis, cultural anthropology,

specializing in the Greasewood natives.

Greasewood natives?

That's an Indian tribe of some sort?

Like a tribe of Native Americans.

Yes.

You've never heard of the Greasewoods?

No, but I'm not much of a history buff.

Well, I think that's evident.

Do you know what you have here, Mr. Wilson?

A scary clown skull.

This stone carving is not a scary clown skull.

It's a death totem.

It's to ward off evil spirits.

It's very hard to come by in my study,

and you happen to have several of them in your collection.

Wow.

Is it of any value?

Mr. Wilson.

I know you think you know all about your motel.

But those stories that you put in those brochures

and on your website, those ghost stories

have happened in one fashion or another.

Yep.

Eyewitnesses.

Tragic deaths have occurred in these rooms.

And all the while, an evil clown lurks somewhere nearby.

What I wanted to talk to you about

is what this place was before it was the clown motel.

Sure.

Fire away.

Coffee? -Oh, I'm good.

I see that you market the graveyard and the mining sites

as tourist destinations on your website,

and that the miners used to stay here in the 1900s.

Yeah, they did.

They did indeed.

But if you know more, I'd sure love to hear it,

'cause I'm always looking to update

the website ghost stories.

Horror sells.

I'm talking about what Tonapah was in the 1800s,

back when it was Butler City.

There was this massacre...

...where it eliminated all the Greasewoods

just to build a railroad in this area of Nevada.

There's no railroad anywhere near here.

Exactly.

That's where I'm piecing everything together.

Okay.

I'm all ears.

The reason why there was no railroad built...

Sit here.

Is because the ones who wanted to do the massacre

were massacred themselves...

right in this very spot. And after doing some research,

it shows this place used to be called the Butler City,

founded by Wyatt Earp passing through town.

Wyatt Earp?

Wow.

You have proof of that?

Just legends and legends passed on from generation to generation.

But I'm looking for proof.

Documents, articles, like artifacts, records.

And this is where you can help me.

There's this cellar below this building.

I used to play in it when I was a kid.

And I remember there was this box down there

with these documents.

Do you know about this box, Mr. Wilson?

No, because the cellar was already sealed up

by the time I bought the motel.

The building department said it was structurally unsound

and it didn't meet zoning codes, and you know...

Well, if I can get access to this box with documents in it,

this would be a huge addition to my thesis.

And if those documents have any historic importance,

I can call the US Historic Registry

and have this place turned into a Greasewood memorial.

But what would happen to my motel?

Well, I'm guessing that the government

would make you an offer and reclaim the land.

Reclaim the land.

It's a good thing that you're not a business major,

Miss Perez, because that was the worst sales pitch

that I have ever heard to gain access to my basement.

What incentive would I possibly have

to let you go down into that cellar

if I was gonna lose my land as a result?

Well, maybe...

because it's the right thing to do.

But regulations strictly forbid me

from letting anybody down in that cellar.

It's unsafe.

Crumbling structurally.

They could shut me down if they found out.

Sorry.

So was the cellar what you wanted to talk to me about?

'Cause if it was, I think we've about covered it.

I wish I could help you, but I can't.

Now I don't know if you're planning to go over to the cemetery and...