Congratulations on Not Catching Fire!

It’s well known that tragedy follows clowns wherever they go, whether they be dancing under a big top or shopping for groceries. Normally it’s domestic trouble, like a clown walking in on his wife cheating or being told he doesn’t take a particular relationship seriously enough by his partner of six months when he tries to ram a balloon animal into her vagina in a moment of passion.

Sometimes it gets a little bit better.

Today you’re going to be walking during an electric storm, right through the middle of a field. You won’t really recall the reason why you’re there (you’ve been hitting the sauce pretty hard of late) but you’ll know it’s very very important that you get home soon because your cat’s dander will no longer be making your eyes red, which means you won’t have seen your cat in over a day.

Lightning will be searing across the sky, silver bolt after silver bolt excising its poetry against the iridescent gray of cloud cover. You’ll pick up your pace and begin running, knowing the danger that those bolts imply in your animal brain. You’ll run harder and faster than you ever have before, forgetting where your feet fall. It is because of this momentary lapse in awareness that you will stumble across a roadway, and cause a car to comically veer to the side before crashing into a tree.

The car’s wheels will still be spinning as its occupants spill out in a cascade of agonized moans. Grunts and occasional shrieks will accompany them as they haul their battered bodies out of the car one by one, white pancake makeup smeared red with their own blood and the blood of their fellows. They’ll be clowns to a man, and there will be like eight of them.

After an awkward pause which won’t be very funny at all the one who is standing the steadiest will shake his head, point at you and shout.

“What the fuck were you doing, man?!”

You won’t be able to give him a very good response, since you’ll be a bit confused by the entire image and you won’t really have a good reason for running aside from “my brain told me to” which really doesn’t sound too great right now. He’ll look at you like he’s going to hit you, although he’ll also look really, really tired for some reason, but you won’t want to fight him so you’ll put up your hands in your own defense, warding him back.

At this very instant lightning will streak from the sky, striking the clowns, who will have clustered together for warmth. Their bodies and giant shoes will fly in every direction, cascading to the ground as they scream in agony. Most of them will be lit aflame, including the clown who was making you feel threatened.

You’ll be elated. Not only will the scary clowns be gone, you’ll now have a safe place to wait out the storm. You’ll stand upon the spot where lightning struck, the earth charcoal black, and warm yourself on the fires lighting the bodies of the dead and dying clowns.

“God bless us,” you’ll say to the sky, shaking your head. “Every one.”

Congratulations on Not Catching Fire!