Laughing Jack - Explained

 Welcome to The Infographic’s HorrorpieceTheater! Today we’re taking a look at another ofthe internet’s most famous urban legends- Laughing Jack, the Demonic Killer- and exploringhis origins to discover, was this hideous monster real? Could he be out there right now, probablybehind you or under your bed this very second, waiting to claim his next victim? Stay tuned and find out! It was Christmas Eve in the late 1800s. 

In a small wooden home in the poor outskirtsof London, Isaac, a seven year old boy, looks wistfully out the window into the dark night. He can still see families celebrating togetherthrough the grimy windows of the apartments and homes around him, joyfully singing asthey wait together in anticipation for the Christmas morning to come. 

In young Isaac's home though, there is nosinging, no warmth, and no celebrating. There is only the silence that normally pervades,silence that is only occasionally broken by his mother's shrill voice calling for himto come and do some chore, or to attend his daily homeschooling lessons. 

That is, until inevitably, Isaac's fathercomes home. He can always tell it's him by the heavy bootsteps that follow the front door opening, shuffling and erratic, his father waveringand stumbling as he throws off his heavy overcoat and lurches towards a chair or straight toned. 

Sometimes he can hear his mother yelling athim, blaming him for spending their meager income on alcohol and other vices. He'll hear his father's thunderous response,and then the fighting really starts. In the morning, Isaac would exit his roomto join his mother for breakfast and discover her with a black eye or some other fresh bruise. 

Staring out at the happy homes and sayinggoodbye to the warm singing of Christmas tunes from the families inside, Isaac retreatedto his bed, covering himself with a threadbare blanket and surrendering to sleep. 

Shortly after sunrise, Isaac was awoken bya strange feeling. His nose twitched at a pleasant fragrancein his room, almost like a perfumed lady had walked by him on the street. It was a comforting, pleasant smell, and familiartoo. 

He thought he'd even felt the soft brush oflips on his cheek, as if some flowered stranger had kissed him good morning before disappearinginto the ether. Rubbing his eyes awake, Isaac found a large,garishly colored box sitting on his bedroom floor. 

This wasn't like any gift Isaac had ever received. His possessions were all worn and battered,hand me downs from local churches and poor shops, his toy’s paint faded from long,sad years of neglect. No, this box was covered in fresh, brightpaint and adorned with silly clown faces. The wood was perfectly sanded and expertlyjoined together, only a very thin seam revealing the lid on top with a small metal crank onone side. 

Attached to the lid was a simple paper tagon which was written Isaac's name. As he examined the box he noticed a smallmetal panel underneath: Laughing-Jack-In-A-Box. Isaac was confused, he'd heard of Jack-in-the-boxes,but he'd never heard of a Laughing-Jack-In-A-Box. Curious, Jack began to turn the metal crankand heard the turning of gears from within. 

As the gears turned, a slow melody began tobuild, taking shape as Isaac sped up his cranking. Isaac recognized this tune, it was “PopGoes The Weasel”, and giddily, Isaac began to sing along. “Half a pound of tupenny rice, half a poundof treacle. 

That's the way the money goes. Pop! Goes the weasel!” Isaac was laughing along to his singing andwinced as he finished the final verse, tensing his body for the expected jack inside thebox to come springing out!... but as the song ended and Isaac stopped cranking, nothinghappened. Sighing, Isaac put the box back down on thefloor. 

It was wonderfully decorated but broken. As he changed out of his sleep clothes, Isaacwas suddenly startled by a rattling noise coming from within the box. Eyes wide in surprise, Isaac stared as thebox began violently shaking. Then, suddenly the box top burst open witha puff of colorful smoke and an explosion of confetti! From the smoke, a figure hopped out, and bentat the waist into an exaggerated bow in front of Isaac. 

Dressed in colorful, and ill-fitting clothes,with bright red hair, and a swirly, rainbow-colored nose, the foppish clown held his exaggeratedbow before Isaac, before snapping back up and spreading his arms wide. “Come one, come all! Whether big or small! To see the best clown of them all! The one, the only, Laughing Jack-in-a-box!” Isaac's eyes went wide with delight, “Who-who are you?!” “Why I'm your new best friend, Isaac! I'm Laughing Jack, the bestest clown of allthe bestest clowns that's ever clowned! And you and I are going to be best pals forthe rest of your life!” “We can... play together?” Isaac asked. 

He'd never had a friend, and barely left hisroom out of fear of his abusive mother and father. “Play?! Why, we can do more than play! I know every game in the world, even the onesthat haven't been invented yet! And to boot, I'm a whiz at the accordion andknow every song that's ever been sung!” With a magical puff of smoke an oversizedaccordion appeared in the clown's arms and he began to play the instrument, albeit very,very poorly. His singing voice wasn't much better, butIsaac was delighted and fell over in laughter. 

But then though, the fun and games came toan end as Isaac's mother called out for him. Isaac told his new best friend that he wouldn'tbe able to play this morning. There was homeschooling and endless choresto be done. Maybe though, he could see him again tonight?,Isaac asked. Laughing Jack smiled at Isaac, pinching himon the cheek. “You can see me tonight and every day fromnow on, we'll be best pals forever.” Smiling, Isaac hurried out of his room ashis mother's voice again rang out, this time louder and angrier. 

That night Laughing Jack was true to his word,waiting for Isaac as he returned. Isaac and Jack played together every chancethey could, and no matter how loud they got, Jack's magic kept Isaac's parents from hearing. One day, unable to hold it in any longer,Isaac finally told his mother about his new magical friend, but she just shushed him. “Such things are fantasies, child, and youought to keep such nonsense to yourself!” Isaac was crestfallen, but as the afternoonneared he couldn't help himself, and pleaded with his mother to come meet Jack. 

Relenting, she followed Isaac to his room. She opened the door and discovered... nothing! No Jack, and no wonderfully colored woodenbox either. Isaac's mother gave him a swift smack acrossthe face. “I am tired of this childish silliness,now you're to stay in your room without supper for the evening!” The door slammed behind her leaving a dejectedIsaac alone in his room. “...I'm sorry, kiddo.” Isaac turned to see Jack there. “I'm not supposed to let anyone else seeme, just you. 

I'm sorry I didn't mean for you-” But Jack'swords were cut off as Isaac threw himself on the clown, wrapping his arms around him. 

A giant smile spreading across his clown face,Jack hugged his best friend back, holding him tightly as hot tears streamed down Isaac'scheeks. Playing with Jack everyday, Isaac's lonelinessand home troubles were soon forgotten. 

One day though, as the two played piratesin the back garden, Isaac spotted the neighbor's cat prowling across the grass. “Ahoy, matey, we got ourselves an enemyspy off the starboard bow! Snatch 'em up, First Mate Jack, or I'll makeye walk the plank!”, Isaac called out. “Aye, aye, Capn', I'll pluck yonder bilgerat right outta tha' water!” Jack's arms began to extend, reaching outand snatching up the terrified cat. As the two laughed and giggled, going backand forth in their best pirate speech, Jack became caught up in the game. 

His arms continued to coil around the helplesscat, tighter and tighter until finally- snap! The small, sharp sound stunned Isaac, andJack quickly returned his arms to normal, dropping the dead cat on the floor, its neckclearly broken. 

Horrified, Jack gaped at the dead creature. “...why, I... I didn't mean to...” But Jack's words were cut off by an uproariouslaughter. Isaac's cheeks flushed red as he laughed atthe dead cat. “Looks like cats really don't have ninelives!” Nervously, Jack began to chuckle as well. Isaac grabbed the cat and flung it over theirfence and into the neighbor's yard. That evening however, Isaac's father's thunderousvoice summoned him from his room. Jack pressed his ear to the door and listenedbut couldn't make anything save for Isaac’s crying. 

After what seemed an eternity, Isaac shuffledback into the room, closing the door behind him. The cat had been discovered and Isaac wasblamed. He was now to be sent off to a boarding schoolfor unruly children where he would stay until he finished his education. His drunk father claimed it was to disciplineIsaac, but he knew the truth- his father hated him and had always wanted him gone.

If his mother had had objections, she hadn'tvoiced them. Tearfully, Isaac bid his best friend goodbye,telling him that he would be unable to take any of his personal belongings with him. Jack returned to his box, promising to stillbe there when Isaac returned one day. The weeks soon turned to months, and intoyears. From within his box, Jack was still awareof the outside world, and despite the long, disappointing wait for his best friend, couldn'thelp but perk up every time he heard the front door open, hopeful it was Isaac. But it never was. It was Isaac's father coming home night afternight, each it seemed drunker than the last. As the years passed, Jack's colored makeupand clothing faded, along with his hopes. 

The once colorful clown turned into a sadmonochrome version of his old self, the memories of his happy times with Isaac seeming moredream than reality now. One night, there was the usual drunken soundof boots stumbling into the house, followed by yelling and fighting. 

This time though, Jack heard a scream, cutshort by a swift, heavy thump- and Jack heard Isaac's mother's voice no more. The next morning the constable arrived witha squad of armed men, taking Isaac's father away for the murder of his wife. 

He too would be dead within the week. The home lay empty and forgotten for whatseemed an eternity after that, Jack aware of every passing second in his lonely prison. Suddenly, one night the sound of the frontdoor opening raised Jack from his dreary vigil. 

Expecting to hear the heavy, shuffling soundof drunken footsteps, Jack heard something different instead. Lighter footsteps, two of them, and the soundof a young woman's giggle. 

Also, the voice of a man, familiar yet unrecognizableto Jack. The duo entered Isaac's old room, and Jack immediately recognized his old best friend, now a fully grown man. Had it really been that long? Jack couldn't believe it! Just how much time had he spent in his lonelybox?! Jack called out to Isaac, “I'm here! I'm right here, just like I said I'd be!” But his voice echoed off the invisible wallsof his prison, stuck as he'd been for years on the top of a dusty old dresser. Isaac and his new friend moved towards hisold bed, and Jack's eyes narrowed. 

Who was this person, taking Isaac's attentionaway from him? Isaac had promised to come back, to set himfree so they could dance and sing and play together again and now here he was, afterso many lonely years, but he was ignoring Jack! And it was all this woman's fault! The two giggled together until the woman accidentallyknocked a glass onto the floor, breaking it. 

Isaac’s face suddenly changed, taking onthe look of his dead father. Isaac went into a rage, yelling and screamingat the woman just as his father had done to his mother so many nights. Jack listened to Isaac’s screams becominglouder and angrier until suddenly a THUMP and then it was quiet. A bloody candlestick was on the ground nextto the woman,m who now lay dead on the floor. 

After thirteen long years, a slow, thin smilebegan to spread across Jack's face. “My, my, what a wonderful little game...”,Jack mused to himself. Still forgotten on the shelf, Jack watchedas over the next few days Isaac used his learned skills as an upholsterer to fashion the remainsof the young woman into a small leather chair. Her tanned skin was turned into leather, stretchedover a frame made from her own bones.

Everything else that remained of her was dissolvedin caustic chemicals and poured into the sewer to be washed away. Over the next few weeks, Isaac grew his macabrecollection of human furniture. Sometimes it was rude children who had beennasty to him in public, abducted and dragged back to Isaac's torture chamber in a largeburlap sack. Other times it was ladies of the night, paidfor their services only to end up as another piece in Isaac's collection. 

The pain and loneliness of the little boyhe had once been had festered in his heart, fed by terrible abuse from the adults at hisboarding school, and creating a terrible cancer within him. This malice slowly infected Laughing Jackas well, and he began to look forward to witnessing fresh torture sessions, still trapped helplesslyinside his box.

 But Laughing Jack longed even more to playthe wonderful new games Isaac had been teaching him. One night, the rough frame with restraintsIsaac had fashioned for his victims collapsed on one side, knocking into the forgotten dresser,now home to not just Jack's prison but an array of torture implements. Jack's box teetered for a moment, before finallyfalling with a crash onto the filthy, bloodied floor along with some of Isaac's tools. 

Curiously, Isaac entered the room, eyeingthe collapsed frame with a sigh. Picking up the ice picks, razors, and othertorture instruments, Isaac's hands stopped upon discovering the box. How curious, he thought to himself, memoriesflooding back to him. 

His rough, calloused hands worked over theforgotten box, its bright colors faded with age, wooden panels warped with neglect. The hand crank was still there though, andIsaac began to turn it for the first time in over thirteen years. 

That familiar song began to play, though distorted,the delicate gears inside rusted and worn. Isaac couldn't help but sing along thoughonce more, slow, and matching the tortured, labored melody. “Half a pound of tuppeny rice... half apound of treacle... that's the way the money goes... Pop! Goes the weasel...” Isaac didn't flinch this time, as he had oncein his youth. 

He looked down at the box as the melody groundto a halt, then simply shrugged his shoulders, and tossing the box to a dark corner of theroom, busied himself with tidying up his torture tools. “..Issaaaaaaccccc...” A low, rasping voice sent a deathly chillup Isaac's spine as he slowly turned to face it. Eyes wide in disbelief, Isaac couldn't believeit, there he was, Laughing Jack... or at least some horribly twisted, shadowy version ofhimself. The clown's fiery red hair was pitch blacknow, the outrageous colors and makeup faded and monochrome. 

His spiral red nose now shaped into a cruelspike, face the same deathly pale of Isaac's victims. “You... you can't be real, you were justimaginary!” Isaac cried out, feeling the same growingterror that many of his victims must have felt. “Oh, I'm real, Isaac, I always was. Remember, best buds, you and I, for the restof your life. And I've been waiting to play fun games withmy best bud. Oh, Isaac... I've waited so long, and now you're back andyou've taught me such delicious games to play!” Jack's arms stretched once more, as they hadonce years ago to wrap around a helpless, struggling feline. 

As they wrapped around Isaac though, whereonce it had been just a silly game that had gotten out of hand, there was now maliciousintent, the snake-like arms wrapping tighter and tighter around Jack's former playmate. The playmate that had abandoned him. 

The best friend that had left him to witherand shrivel up alone for years and years, then come home only to ignore him! A series of audible pops rang out as Isaac'sribs snapped one by one under the immense pressure. Jack let go and, Isaac's body crumbled tothe floor. Ragged, hoarse breaths came from Isaac, hisbody broken but still alive. 

With a wicked grin spreading across Jack'sface, he stepped forward out of the darkness. Jack had been waiting to play for a long time,and now, there was nobody to interrupt them anymore. So glad you’ve survived our horrific taleand at last come to the end, but, was any of it real? Is there any truth to the Laughing Jack urbanlegend? There exists no historical evidence to supportthe existence of any of these characters, but, Laughing Jack’s origins come from beforethe dawn of modern police investigation and reporting. 

So who knows, perhaps this is another talemixed in with equal parts truth, and equal parts lie. Or perhaps it’s all true, and Laughing Jackis out there right now, probably hidden in some shadowy corner of your room, waitingfor night to fall so he can strike out and claim one more victim!