Clown City
Clown City’s Big Landing Pad, Landing Pad Town
High Noon
Balloons!
Parades!
Streamers!
Kazoos!
Debauchery!
A hero's welcome has commenced in Landing Pad Town (which is a tri-state area) within Clown City (which is a planet). Literal trillions of clowns have cramped themselves in the bustling streets to witness the return of the Tag Team Champions!
Astronaut Clown & Houston Clown!
We go live on the scene to Live at the Scene Clown.
“Good high noon everyone, if you’re sat on your keister watching this and not here in Clownson…”
Beside him, from beneath the frame, pops up a second clown.
“What the fuck is ‘here in Clownson’?”
“...It’s like ‘here in person’, but for us clowns.”
“That makes no etymological sense.” Complains Pedantry Clown,
“It’s not like the ‘per’ in person denotes the human aspect, it’s the entire word! It should be ‘Here in Clown’!”
“I’m here in clown!” Calls out Top Clown, amidst graphic clown-on-clown sex!
“In this clown specifically!” He points at his clown partner.
“It’s a living.” Groans Exists-For-The-Sake-Of-This-Bit Clown.
“Regardless! If you’re not here physically! Then, you must be a disgrace to clownmanity and will be dealt with!”
We cut briefly to an overweight clown in a white tank top and rainbow wig combover who splutters his lips watching this in the comfort of his home.
“Pfft! I work 9 jobs, I ain’t got times for thats! I deserves a breaks!”
Suddenly his door is bashed open by a battering ram and his house is swarmed by clowns in black coats.
“Zis vill not do, Oververked Clown!” Says Gestapo Clown who pulls out a mauser pistol and shoots Overworked Clown in the head.
The battering ram sighs whilst eating some grass,
“It’s a living! Baaaa!!”
“WE DID THAT JOKE ALREADY!” Pedantry Clown moans!
“And clownmanity suggests that that the hu- in human is…”
“So you’re more concerned about the use of the word clownmanity than the apparent existence of Nazi Clowns in the tapestry of Clown City lore.”
…Pedantry Clown thinks about it.
…
“Yes.”
“Ugh. Feels really weird that we have those here… Oh, hold on!” Live on the Scene Clown presses his finger to his earpiece.
His earpiece honks.
“I’m receiving word now that… They’re not really Nazis? We didn’t have World War 2 here? And Hitler never existed so this was just a fun bit to get a shock laugh out of the people watching? And this repeating part was unnecessary?”
Live at the Scene Clown’s eyes widen!
“Oh, I’m receiving another word…”
…
“Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia.”
Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia Clown screams in horror.
“Enough clownanigans, folks, time to get out your sun-blocking glasses to see the rocket enter our goofy atmosphere!”
Every single clown puts on glasses with those dangly eyes on springs that bob up and down rhythmically. Appreciates-the-Classics Clown chuckles to himself in anticipation knowing that as soon as those glasses come off, every clown will have black circles around their eyes. He wipes away a tear,
“Ha, classic.”
On the rocket ship slowly making its way back down to Clown City, Astronaut Clown places a hand on the window looking down at the approaching planet. A championship belt draped over his shoulder.
“Home. Looks so small from up here.”
Clown City, the planet, with a cartoonish face gasps and looks down at its bra before stuffing tissue into the padding and making a sexy pose. A passing meteor sees this and grows a wolf’s face and begins howling as its eyes bulge out of its skull.
The toilet flushes and Houston Clown goes to see the view and whistles,
“Check out those melons!”
Space Grocer Clown waves as her fruit stand sails pass the rocket.
“Yeah,” Astronaut Clown remarks,
“She has huge tits too.”
And two huge Space Blue Tits carry her and her fruit stand off to safety. Probably back to Bird World, (which is a city) but that's a story for never, we won’t tell it, don’t even THINK ABOUT ASKING.
“Well, kid, we did it. We got our titles from Title City, which is a planet, and we’re gonna be the most famous Clowns in Clownstory! What’s the first thing you gonna do when we get home?”
“Hmm.” Astronaut Clown thinks deeply,
“I’m probably gonna see my mom, ask my girlfriend to marry me, live in the house we’re two payments away from paying off, finally finish that novel I’ve been working on, and take my clown son out to play catch like I promised him I’d do right when I got back to Clown City.”
“What a great list of things that you’re definitely going to get to do!” Houston Clown puts an arm around Astronaut Clown, “As for me, I’m getting old, I think I’m just gonna take life to the fullest, really enjoy myself! See everything there is to see. Maybe release all my secret files that implicate the highest echelons of Clown City government officials in a widespread conspiracy to consolidate power, enrich themselves, and quietly suppress the Clown people’s collective knowledge of Clown World War 2.”
Houston Clown glances toward the camera.
“Clown World War 2, of course, being the first Clown World War.”
“Clown World of course being…”
“A township. The war was over parking.”
Astronaut Clown claps Houston Clown on the back.
“That sounds like a great idea! We’re going to live forever!”
“Ladies and germs!” Live at the Scene Clown announces, his googly glasses bobbing away,
“Our heroes have broken through the atmosphere and the rocket is touching down on the big landing pad!”
Houston Clown holds a tiny umbrella to slow the fall until the rocket lands perfectly in the center of the bullseye on the landing pad.
A crazy slide with a sick loop descends from the rocket and the blast doors open to the cheers of the crowd, all of which have black circles around their eyes. Appreciates-the-Classics Clown doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need to say anything, he just chuckles to himself.
And as the doors open, two corpses slide down to the crowd.
… Corpses?
Oh shit, they’re dead!? THEY’RE DEAD!
The crowd gasps in unison.
Police Clowns quickly enter the scene and pardon the area. Triskadekaphobia Clown enters, puffing on his cigarette and ducks under the yellow tape…
| NOTE: Noir Clown has fallen ill, sick of shenanigans, and as such he will be played by Triskadekaphobia Clown |
“Alright, nothing to see here. Clear out, you Clowns!”
Triskadekaphobia Clown kneels down, rubbing his chin. He looks at the two dead clowns, sees a knife in each of their backs and concludes his investigation.
“Natural causes. Damn shame.” He squints,
“Hold on a minute… What’s this?”
Triskadekaphobia Clown takes a note clutched in Astronaut Clown’s hand.
“Lemme guess…” A soft southern drawl breaks through the crowd as Southern Gentleman Detective Clown removes his sunglasses and looks over the bodies,
“There’s been a murder.”
SOUTHERN DETECTIVE CLOWN AND TRISKADEKAPHOBIA CLOWN IN…
THE MYSTERY OF WHETHER THE PHRASE IS ‘here in clown’ OR ‘here in clowson’ |
“That’s not what the mystery’s about!”
…Typist Clown backspaces.
| THE MYSTERY OF THE THE MURDER THAT WAS OUT OF THIS WORLD |
“Well, the murder definitely occurred ON this world. We saw Houston Clown use that umbrella to slow the rocket’s fall!”
…Typist Clown exhales impatiently.
…
He types…
| THE MYSTERY OF THE WORKING TITLE |
“Dammit!” Triskadekaphobia Clown smacks Typist Clown.
“We need a title now!”
“Damn it, man!” Southern Detective Clown smacks Triskadekaphobia Clown!
“We don’t have time for this! There’s more pressing matters!”
“You’re right.” Triskadekaphobia Clown nods. He turns and smacks Beaver Clown!
“Dam it, man! Or that rising river will flood Clown Planet!”
“Which is a city!”
Beaver Clown salutes, rushing off to gather twigs and dry branches.
“Now, we move onto the SECOND-most important crisis… these two dead guys.”
“Let’s check that note I found clutched in Astronaut Clown's hand! Maybe with his last act, he wrote the killer's name!”
Triskadekaphobia Clown unfurls it…
“Drat, it looks like he was interrupted halfway through writing!”
“Well, halfway through is better than nothing!”
“Also…”
“He died doing a bit.”
“Tarnation and hellfire! Clowns make for the worst murder victims…”
Rookie Cop Clown checks a clown corpse, murdered in broad daylight!
“The victim wrote a note!”
Rookie Cop Clown retrieves it from his body.
“Turn this over to find out who killed me.”
Rookie Cop Clown turns it over.
“Turn this over to find out who killed me.”
Rookie Cop Clown turns it over.
“Turn this ov-”
Triskadekaphobia Clown puffs on his cigarette.
“I turned it over thirteen times before I realized Prank Clown had killed himself.”
…He exhales smoke.
“He always said he’d have the last laugh.”
“Well, did that fishbowl-headed fool write anything of use? Check the back!”
TC turns over the note.
“Yes, he wrote down instructions on how to turn a dying note into a sick paper airplane.”
“I meant useful to our investigation!”
SGDC hurls the note to the ground.
The note does a sick loopy-de-loop before landing.
“Well, this rocket landing and returning with the belts from Title City was THE event of Clown Season!”
“Which is a weekend!”
“Surely, someone saw the murder!”
| THREE HOURS OF QUESTIONING LATER |
“Clown God Dammit! Everyone was wearing those goofy googles, what with the springs that bob up and down rhythmically!”
“The springs had thirteen coils. A clue.”
“Not every instance of the number 13 is a clue, you numerical fool! Confound it!” Southern Detective Clown calls out to Clown Thor in despair!
“This happened in plain sight! How could no one see the murder?!?”
A clown coughs.
“I saw a murder.”
SGDC spins toward the clown!
“Wonderful, the killer left a witness!”
“of crows.”
…
SGDC squints, perplexed.
“So… hearing my question regarding if anyone witnessed the murder… you felt it appropriate to interject that you witnessed… a group of crows?”
The clown nods.
“Yes, considering I saw them execute Houston Clown.”
SGDC gaps!
“Stars and garters! You witnessed the murder commit a murder!”
“‘s last will and testament.”
“...”
Triskadekaphobia Clown scratches his bare scalp.
“So. A flock of crows helped Houston Clown to amend his will?”
“But hhhhhhhhWHY!?!?” Ponders SGDC in a fashion that is both southern and gentlemanly.
“Oh, because Houston Clown wanted to update his will after he decided to leave his wife.”
“By Clown Odin’s Beard! The wife has a motive!”
“Everything. He wanted to leave her everything in his will.”
”DAMN YOUR MISLEADING PAUSES, MAN!”
Misleading Pause Clown coughs.
Triskadekaphibia Clown raises his hands into a T.
“Sorry, timeout.”
“FWOOOOOOOT!” Referee Clown blows a whistle.
“TIMEOUT! Triskadekaphobic Clown has two timeouts and a challenge remaining!”
“A murder of crows... executed Houston Clown's will?”
“That IS odd!” Legal Expert Clown, who’s been here this entire time, ponders.
“Clown City's crow murder populations usually only work in the legal profession as process servers.”
Pastrami-on-Rye Clown’s in a Clown City park, affixing a napkin to his chest, about to enjoy a pastrami-on-rye...
Suddenly a murder of crows swoops down!
CAAAAAAAW!
“Aw! Get away! Get awaaaaaay!”
P-o-RC swats at them with his sandwich!
One picks it from his hands!
“HEY!”
The murder scatters to the skies!
“My lunch! Ugh, could this day get worse…”
PoRC looks at the bench and sees a bit of paperwork left behind... He picks it up and reads it...
“MY WIFE’S DIVORCING ME?!?”
Legal Expert Clown examines Houston Clown’s will closely…
“Hmm! Printed with disappearing ink, as many clown contracts are… in WingDings, yes, very funny, and thus, very legal…”
“Get on with it, you fool!” SGDC harumphs impatiently!
“Can you see any clues that would narrow down who killed the tag-team champion clowns?”
“We’d also accept instances where the number thirteen is relevant.”
“We absolutely would not!”
Triskadekaphobia Clown sticks his tongue out at SGDC thirteen times.
It takes a while.
Every time, his tongue honks.
“Hmm! Aha!” Legal Expert Clown points to the time.
““There! It was signed… just before the rocket landed!”
“Wait, so…” Triskadekaphobia Clown quietly gasps.
“That means the murder of crows was the last person... slash entity… to meet with Houston Clown?”
“Perhaps they witnessed something about his demeanor... a clue?”
“Or something related to the number thirteen.”
“THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIRTEEN.”
| One drive later to the offices of Crow, Crow, Crow, Crow, Crow, Crow, Crow, Crow, Crow, Crow, Crow, Crow, and Crow: A Limited Liability Practice |
“Thirteen crows…”
“Oh, shuddup.”
“I’ll handle this. I speak the language of thirteen crows.”
Triskadekaphobia Clown knocks in a crowlike fashion, before opening the office door.
...
Triskadekaphobia Clown steps back out.
“The crows have been murdered!”
Gasp Clown gasps.
Southern Gentleman Detective Clown spits out the mint julep he just poured himself!
“The murder was murdered?!? A murder murder!”
TC raises a blood-covered page!
“And look what I found under the crow's corpses! A half-completed document to merge their firm with a different thirteen-crow law firm! You know what that would have made their firm?”
“...Twenty-six crows?”
“Double thirteen. Twice as thirteen as thirteen is.”
TC raises a different page, covered in even more blood!
“But, THIS document, which I found OVER the crow corpses, would have cancelled the merger over alleged perjury by a partner (of multiple crows) in the other firm who also serves as a bishop in the local crow parish reported by his attendant!”
Fainting Clown faints into Gasp Clown’s arms mid-gasp.
“The murder murder was over a murder merger that was scourged over perjury by a murder clergy by the urging of a verger!!?!”
“That's a Tongue Twister.”
Board Game Clown raises a box containing Tongue Twister.
“Not now, Board Game Clown.”
Board Game Clown sadly puts away Tongue Twister.
“Dash it all.” Southern Gentleman Detective Clown strokes his chin, which honks as he strokes.
“It feels like we have all the pieces to the puzzle to solve this mystery… Crows, wills, clowns… but they don’t fit together.”
“You’re ignoring the big picture. The number thirteen i-”
“Sir, if you bring up the number thirteen again, I will personally kick your ass thirteen times up and down Clown Avenue.”
Southern Gentleman Detective Clown puffs his pipe.
“Which is a country.”
Triskadekaphobia Clown sneers irritatedly.
“I shouldn’t have agreed to a partner. I work best alone.”
“Even when playing Tongue Twister?”
“Especially when playing Tongue Twister.”
Triskadekaphobia Clown spins a wheel.
“Hmm, right tongue blue.”
Triskadekaphobia Clown presses the right side of his tongue to a blue space on the Tongue Twister game mat.
…
“Andth I’m the lath player tho… I winth.”
“Thish is the besh birthay ether.”
SGDC rolls his eyes so hard they spin around like marbles.
“That’s not even how you play Tongue Twister! The box clearly says TWO players or more! An-”
…
“...Wait! That’s it! The number! That’s the key!”
“Exactly! Thirteen!”
“No, you single-minded MUPPET. Two! Don’t you see? Houston Clown AND Astronaut Clown were murdered together! They both had belts from Title City. And those belts are gone!”
“Right. Some freak’s enjoying those ill-gotten belts. Probably going to eat them as we Clowns typically consume belts.”
“That is true and officially part of Clown City lore. But, NOT some freak. Some FREAKS! Plural!”
Triskadekaphobia Clown gasps.
Gasp Clown squints.
“Stay in your lane, asshole.”
“So, you’re saying we’re not looking for one killer… we’re looking for TWO! The difference between one and three! The answer was staring me in the face the whole time! Thirteen!”
“One slight correction, my number-obsessed colleague… we’re no longer looking. The suspects are right under our nose! Now it’s a matter of ACCUSING!”
SGDC points skyward!
“To the Accusing Slash Trash Talk Parlor Room!”
AND NOW…
FOR ACCUSING AND/OR TRASH TALK |
Southern Gentleman Detective Clown paces before two suspects.
“Now, you two know why we’ve gathered you here.”
“To play Tongue Twister?”
“YOU GET OUTTA HERE, BOARD GAME CLOWN!”
Boot! SGDC kicks BGC in the A-S-S to send him O-U-T.
“Anyway, you two had motive… opportunity… and the desire…”
“TO MURDER THE CLOWN TAG CHAMPS AND STEAL THEIR BELTS?!?”
…
Gasp Clown looks from his newspaper to see everyone looking at him.
“Oh sorry. Ahem…”
GASP!
“Let’s start with Humorless Bitch Clown.”
A very hip-looking clown in a beret dressed in all black clutches her pearls.
“Eck-SCUSE me! I’m Artiste Clown! I create aaaaaaart!”
“Humorless Bitch Clown, you enjoy creating large-scale pieces of performance art that offend and shock!”
“Yes! That’s what art is! If you take comfort or enjoy what I’m doing, that’s not real art! Art should PISS YOU OFF!”
“Yes, you loooooove boundary-pushing expressions. Unless of course the expression pushes your boundaries.”
Artiste Clown sneers in disgust!
“Ugh! I hate that! I hate when I don’t like things! That should be illegal!”
“Like when you spent weeks attacking other artists and challenging them to art contests in your art studio!”
“It was a BOLD EXAMINATION of art itself! Competition! DRAMA! FORCING Art on the less talented!”
“But then when Fat Stupid Idiot Clown attacked YOU and challenged YOU to an art contest, you acted like it was totally uncalled for.”
“Of course! Because who would do something like that?”
“...YOU would! You did!”
“YOU DON’T GET IT! When I piss people off, it’s funny and le trolling! I’m a master of mind games! BUT! When other people piss me off, it’s annoying and toxic!”
“...This is just fascinating.” Southern Gentleman Detective Clown strokes his chin thoughtfully, before reaching into his pocket.
“Hold on, I want to try something…”
He fishes around in his pocket, eventually retrieving…
A mirror.
He holds it up to Artiste Clown’s face.
She squints angrily.
“Who the fuck is this loud obnoxious bitch? Someone should call HER Humorless Bitch Clown!”
Triskadekaphobic Clown squints.
“What the hell’s wrong with her? She can’t recognize herself?”
“As I suspected. This Clown was born without a sense of self-awareness.”
“So… could she kill a clown… and not be aware it’s wrong?”
“I mean, wouldn’t be the first time, she killed her three friends in a drunk driving accident!”
“Drunk Driving IS art! A populated crosswalk is my canvas… And my brush is a 1992 Nissan Stanza.”
“Moving on… to Suspect #2: Introspective Self-Narration Clown!”
“I stood at the precipice of the abyss in the pouring rain as the casket was slowly lowered into the gaping maw that is a funeral plot.”
“Two clowns were dead. Heroes of their time… champions even.”
“As Astronaut Clown was lowered into the Earth, his pants fell around his ankles one last time.”
“I wept weepingly when I realized a belt would have held them up.”
“A belt being what he won. A belt being why he died.”
“Ironic.”
“Like rain on your wedding day.”
“Except instead of a wedding, it’s a funeral. And instead of rain, it’s a dead clown.”
“Like ten thousand spoons, when what you actually need is ten thousand and ONE spoons!”
“It’s lik-”
SGDC raises his hand.
“I’m… I’m gonna stop you there. You can sit down now, we’re just… we’re moving on from you.”
Introspective Self-Narration Clown sits back down.
When she sits back down, she sits down on a photo.
Gasp! The photo is of a young girl clown with hair like ISNC! With an older clown! Gasp! Could that be her…
“No, no! That’s enough! Thank you, we get it! We’re moving on.”
SGDC shakes his head.
“As great a mystery as this murder is… an even greater conundrum is these two loud pretentious dame clowns and the curious case of who gives a fuck!"
“They don’t seem the type to share a room let alone a well-executed murder! And besides, if they did do it, Humorless Bitch Clown surely wouldn’t shut up about it! Or left a clear coiled turd as evidence whilst Introspective Self-Narration Clown detailed every small detail in her signature style of a toddler’s first poem!”
SGDC puts a finger to his lips, thinking for a moment before turning to Triskadekaphobia Clown.
“These two wanted the titles for themselves but I doubt they did it, it just doesn’t add up. Committing to something seems like the last thing they’d ever do.”
A slow clap.
Followed by slow honks.
As two clowns enter the room. Slowly!
“Well, well, well, looks like you solved the case, detective!”
A strange half-burned clown stands there smugly next to another clown whose pants fall down.
SGDC and Triskadekaphobia Clown glance at one another.
“Who are you guys?”
“HA! Don’t play dumb, fools! Tis I! EVIL HOUSTON CLOWN and my comically foolish henchman, Easily-Tricked-By-The-Director-Clown, AKA Easily-Tricked-By-Evil-Houston Clown!”
ETBEHC waves, [nickleman]“It’s a living!”[/nickleman]
“Okay,” Triskadekaphobia Clown puts up a palm,
“Timeout.”
“FWWOOT!” Referee Clown blows his whistle,
““Triskadekaphobia Clown has 1 timeout and 1 challenge remaining.”
“No one cares about you guys! We didn’t even bother putting you on the suspect list! I thought you died, honestly! You fucking suck!”
Evil Houston Clown frowns, sticking out his bottom lip, then his pants fall down.
“You failed at beating Houston Clown and Astronaut Clown! You haven’t done anything of note in months! You made it your life mission to get revenge on some schmuck and he’s doing great now while you’re literally doing nothing! Everyone on Clown City-”
“Which is a planet.”
“-Literally forgot you existed! You are single-handedly the most pathetic clown to ever exist! And Norm Grekin lives here!”
Former NBA player Norm Grekin, who’s ALSO been here all along, turns shocked!
“Hey! I’m not pathetic!”
Triskadekaphobia Clown twirls his finger.
“Challenge.”
Referee Clown takes off his headphones and looks into the camera.
“After review… Norm Grekin IS pathetic.”
#897727“Shucks!”[/color] Grekin double-dribbles a can down the street.
It hits his foot and goes down a sewer.
“Hahahahaha.” Evil Houston Clown twirls his cowboy hat menacingly.
“Don’t you see… It’s all part of my master plan!”
“Your master plan to get beat by fucking EVERYBODY ELSE?!? You haven’t won anything in, like, FOUR MONTHS. You get your ass kicked more often than Gets-His-Ass-Kicked Clown!”
“And you!” Triskadekaphobia Clown points to ETBEHC, “Keep trying to challenge every other clown you come across and keep falling into obscurity more than this bozo! The two of you combined form some kind of Voltron of failure! You couldn’t sniff a championship belt let alone hold onto one and you THINK you have what it takes to be suspects!? I should whoop your asses 26 times! That’s 13 whoops each!”
SGDC taps Triskadekaphobia Clown on the arm to calm him down.
“H-well! It seems my partner got his point across, and I feel I have come to a conclusion on the murder!”
SGDC looks around the room, southernly!
“None of y’all did it!”
Gasp Clown gasps!
Feint Clown feints!
“I knew it!” Says Guessed-The-Ending-to-the-Mystery-500-words-in Clown.
“None of you four are killers, because it takes a killer to be a champion. And from where I’m standing, I don’t see champions. Just four shmucks looking for glory, tryna steal it for themselves. A self-absorbed, self-proclaimed “artiste” who spits out their pacifier every other week, a droll dame too caught up in their inner-monlogue to think about doing something else and two jokers with the lamest entrance, lamest bits and most worn-out welcome I ever did see.”
“Then… Who killed Houston Clown and Astronaut Clown? And who stole the titles!?”
“Simple, who would have a reason to put us through this nightmare of guessing game and steal-the-titles to throw us two into an inane match of ladders, tables and whoopie cushions…”
Triskadekaphobia Clown drops his cup of coffee which breaks on the floor like in that one movie, you know the one, the one with the suspects, that are usual.
“Hohohoho, oopsie, did I ruin ze mystery!? How saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad.”
Schadenfruede Clown gives a German wink which twinkles as he and Elon share a drink on a beach, for their honeymoon, because that is a subplot going on.
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