I think of myself as a sane and reletively level headed person, but I'd be a complete pussy if I didn't admit that clowns scare me. In fact, if you aren't afraid of clowns, you scare me.

Picture a clown in your mind. Picture the funky fro hair from hell and that gaping, gory, autopsy red mouth painted into a frown. Jesus! The white pancake makeup they wear only exaggerates the piss yellow of their teeth.

I imagine that clowning doesn't come with a good solid HMO plain, so I'm sure they aren't always in the best of health. They're probably riddled with disease. Fucking clowns!

They travel from town to town with the carnies, carrying their filth and disease and spreading it to unsuspecting folk who don't have the good sense to fear them.

Oh, but I'm smarter than that. I've got clowns figured out. They lure you into a false sense of giddiness, what with their pratfalls and merriment. Then when you least suspect it, they throw contaminated confetti in your face.

Only in the end, you don't know it's the clowns that did you in. You die a slow, lingering death thinking to yourself, "Well, at least I got to see the circus clowns 'fore I died." And you die nevering knowing that Punch totally fucked you in the ass.

Fucking clowns.

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