I am not crazy.  That sentence is plastered in my brain after years of constantly reassuring myself with it.  As I rinse the blood off my hands, I start to question if it is true.  

      I look into the bathroom mirror and am startled at my own reflection.  The bright clown makeup I had so thoughtfully applied this morning has been distorted and mangled.   My masterpiece has been ruined.  I want the man in the mirror to go away.  I need him to go away.  I know all control was lost when I see the shards of mirror land at my feet.  My hand throbs, but the mirror man is gone so its okay.  It is all okay. 

       When I was a kid,  I absolutely adored clowns.  Everyone did.  Thats why I did what I did.   Children need to be taught to be grateful.  When a child is not grateful, like stare at there smartphones instead of witnessing the wondrous joys of a hardworking clown,  they should be punished.  I just punished the children for them.  I am not crazy.

      Would crazy people take the time to carefully capture thirteen kids without being witnessed once?  No.  Would crazy people be able to hide thirteen bodies without a single one being discovered?  No.  

      So I, am not crazy.  

“How exciting, huh?” the chipper nurse addressed the patient. “Your bandages will be removed today and you can see yourself for the first time!”

The patient, Nedly Nelson, tried to respond, but couldn’t, for his throat was still wrapped and intubated. He could not wait until he could say just what he thought of his new face. How dare the judge sentence him to life with a clown’s face! Hadn’t the judge heard of the Eighth Amendment? If anything was cruel and unusual punishment, it was having to walk around with a crazy face forever more!

So yeah, he’d been convicted on twelve counts of kidnapping, torturing, and murdering clowns. Did that really mean he deserved to be sentenced to live the rest of his life as one? He thought not... Unable to control his mind, Nedly fell to remembering some of his crimes.

First, there was Ripples. Ripples! Stupid-ass name for anyone, even a clown! He’d grabbed the “entertainer” from behind the carnival, taken it to his warehouse, and tortured the crap out of it. He’d especially taken great pleasue in carving the guy’s mouth into a real permanent smile, a la the Joker. Ripples had thought it real funny to squirt him with his flower three times! Who was laughing now?!

Then came Dan. If Ripples was a dumb name, Dan was an even worse name for a clown. But, oh, the screams and yells that came out of Dan’s mouth as he had cut off his toes! Bet he wouldn’t be taunting anybody else with those big shoes!...Course, he was dead now, so he wouldn’t be doing anything else, big feet or not.

Most of the other clown tortures ran into a blur, but he was quite fond of the last one. She’d been a girl clown named Peaches so of course he’d covered her liver in herbs before he ate it. But that was after raping her a couple of times. She may’ve been a clown, but she’d still had a pussy, so he’d made use of it.

“Alright, Mr. Nelson.” Doctor Hannah broke his reverie. “Time to take off those bandages, huh?”

The doctor, obviously reveling in Nedly’s discomfort, beckoned orderly Benji to assist him in putting the patient into a wheelchair before wheeling him over to the mirror on the wall. There the convict sat, dread gripping his whole body as the process began. Nedly watched as the physician removed layer upon layer of wrapping. When he finally got to the last layer, the doctor removed the intubation, rebandaging the area before continuing. When Nedly tried to speak, he quieted him, “Just a moment, we’re almost there.” He removed the last layer and Nedly took in the full visual, horror filling his every fiber.

He tried to scream, but nothing came out.

“Oooooh, that’s right,” the doctor spoke. “We decided that being a clown was too good for you, so we made you a mime, instead. You can’t talk any more, either.”

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!