LogFAQs > #961550405

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(It's my REAL hair color, and it's NOT makeup, it's my fucking FACE. I WON'T tell you a joke, I WON'T do any tricks! Or maybe I'll make a bullet magically appear in your fucking skulls...)

She quietly seethed as the girls laughed and poked fun as they walked by. She hated humans. She hated their laughter, their smiles, their expectations and assumptions; she hated being near them- hated breathing the same air as them. As much as she despised Killer Klowns From Outer Space and IT and all the other horrible clown movies that perpetuated violent clown stereotypes, she found herself daydreaming more and more often of trapping humans in cotton candy cocoons and sucking their blood, or luring annoying human kids into the sewers and ripping them apart with monstrous teeth and claws of her own. She always felt herself slipping away, imagining how fun it'd be to turn all their insides into outsides. She hated human laughter, but she knew she'd love their screams. The only thing that pulled her back to her senses was her parents. Her adoptive human parents that she knew loved her, and told her so many times that clowns are rare, wonderful, joyful gifts to the world. At her worst moments, she remembered all the times they tucked her in, kissed her forehead, and wished sweet dreams to their 'funny angel.' And she cried.