Bozo, the Cannibal Clown

“You can count on me.” the clown happily proclaimed.  We gave him a gun, but he just looked at it as if he’d never seen one.  He held it out from his body awkwardly, obviously uncertain of how to use it.  Eventually, Stanley took it back from him, afraid that he’d hurt himself accidentally.  With the leash fastened securely around Bozo’s neck, we moved onward through the desolate, abandoned landscape of New York City.

For the first little while, we didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, some cars, garbage floating all over the streets, dead bodies.  These were all pretty common sights.  Yolanda tugged lightly on Bozo’s leash to spur him on, as he was becoming distracted by a picture of an ice cream cone on an old grocery store coupon sheet.  Stanley gritted his teeth as he snatched it from our newly acquired pet clown.

We had all gotten a bit too comfortable, not having had a fight in over three days, so it was nice when we were ambushed by a pack of Slug Buddy gang members.  We were just inside the lobby of some abandoned office building when they emerged from multiple locations, their sights set on us.

The leader of the group, a short man with dyed red hair and a grenade that he tossed idly up and down into the air, appeared behind the railing of the upper floor of the lobby.  He was smiling an uncomfortable smile.  Multiple times, he seemed as though he was going to say something, but he never did.

“I think he’s afraid of public speaking.” said Yolanda.  This made the leader guy upset.  He looked at Yolanda with an evil intensity, and put his finger around the pin ring of the grenade, but at just that moment, Bozo leaped like a jaguar up to the upper floor and sunk his lipstick stained teeth into the neck of the Slug Buddy leader.

As his henchman turned their attention toward Bozo, they began firing wildly at the clown, but the bullets either bounced off of his skin or got caught in his multi colored afro.  With wide eyes and a creepy smile, Bozo turned his head toward the closest henchman before lunging at him with a comical hunger.

The distraction proved to be just what we needed.  The rest of the group hunkered down behind counter tops, vending machines, and advertisement signs on the ground floor of the lobby.

“Let’s show these monkey’s who their messing with!”  Stanley yelled, attempting to rally the group together.  It seemed to work.  In perfect unison, we lifted from cover and took out the rest of the armed thugs.  After the echoing of the gunfire had settled, there was nothing but the smell of burnt metal shell casings and the sound of Bozo satiating his carnival hunger.

Stanley pulled Bozo from what was left of the henchman he was feeding on, and we continued our search for the Great Vendor.  It was nice that these guys were camping at that place, because they left tons of ammunition and food.  Good thing we found Bozo.


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