“Senior Wealthy Mystery Author Clown, your Cobb Salad is here!” Says Stereotypical Elderly Spanish Maid Clown. “El gasp!”

She drops the Cobb Salad on the ground as her hands go to her face, bacon bits and room temperature iceberg lettuce fly everywhere. A miniature Titanic in the carpet capsizes crashing into the leafy greens.

“Dios Mio! Dónde esta la Bibliotheca! El murderer-o!” She cries out as a dark figure holds a knife over the dead body.

We go to a classic clown car driving down a lonesome stretch, the top down as 20 clowns cling on for dear life inside hoping to not fall out like polka dot tumbleweeds over the tarmac, except for Very Precise Idyllic Death Clown, but we lost him 3 miles ago.

In the driver's seat sits a dapper clown, shades on, ascot blowing in the wind. His leather driving clown gloves wrapped around the comically small steering wheel.

“Funny things, names.” He ponders to himself out of nowhere. “When I was a child, my parents named me Cajun Child Clown. A name I discovered was a damn lie! My mother was Unable-To-Detect-Precise-Dialect Clown and my father, Hard-Of-Hearing Clown… I remember the last words he ever said to me before I left that one show-pony town.”

The words “What was that, son?” echoes through his head.

“That lie my parents told me set me off to untangle every mystery I could get my mitts on. I wasn't Cajun Kid Clown, not any more. I tried to be Pastrami-On-Rye Clown but my pallette for mustard was lackluster at best. It wasn’t until my 20s when I truly realised I didn't speak in a Cajun accent at all, not even a Clown-Louisiana twang! More a stylized, high-Mississippi, Southern drawl inspired by the famed linguist Foghorn Leghorn and the "flamboyant" voice of Clown-nessee Williams. But that was a mouthful. So my name finally became Southern Gentleman Detective Clown.”

“And this long road of self-discovery, solving name related conundrums has led me to Died Under Mysterious Circumstances Clown formerly known as Wealthy Mystery Author Clown who I plan to rectify as Mystery Solved Clown before some other poor schmuck claims the dead one for themselves like a hermit crab adorning a new shell.”

“Hermit crab, not to be confused with Hermit Clown who keeps bugging Philosophy Clown. Though, him throwing a plucked chicken coated in grease paint into the town square shouting “Behold! A Clown!” was indeed hilarious.”

“I appreciate you telling me this.” Says a clown beside him patting him on the shoulder.

“My pleasure, Loves Exposition Clown.”  SGD Clown gives a very sincere smile to his passenger and pulls up at an exotic mansion in the middle of dense foliage.

“Ah.” SGD Clown says stepping out of the car, 19 clowns tumbling out behind him as he removes his sunglasses and looks to the house. “A 15th century Tudor!”

King Henry VIII moves out of the way so he can actually see the house. Southern Gentleman Detective Clown pulls out a fan and begins wafting air into his face to cool the summer heat and moves to the front doors. The extension cord of the fan trailing behind him.


The detective stands pacing around in the parlor room, every suspect conveniently in the room with him.

“Now then, after a long and intense investigation on my end meeting a beautiful woman that tragically ended in an all-out gunfight with the Space-Mexican Clowntel; healing from several bullet wounds and resolving many traumas. I feel I have finally deduced who indeed murdered Wealthy Mystery Author Clown!”

Murmurs and gasps sound as Southern Gentleman Detective Clown puts finger to his chin.

“When the maid discovered the body and saw the murderer, albeit in the cover of darkness, my first thought like all of you was immediately Red Herring Clown! But that thought quickly vanished when it dawned on me that Red Herring Clown couldn’t have been the culprit since they have no arms or legs on account of them being a fish!”

The herring in clownfish make-up flops around on its chair.

“Well put, Red Herring Clown. You weren’t even there the night of the murder! But who was?”

He looks around the room.

“It was Wealthy Mystery Author Clown’s 100th birthday and signing of his last will and testament, an event some may find important. Some like his daughter, Jaded-She-Never-Got-The-Love-Of-Her-Father Clown, or her husband, Violent Outburst Clown!”

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU DETECTIVE!” VO Clown screams as he stands up.

“I’m sure you h-will!” SGD Clown says with an extra oomph of southern drawl. “NOT!”

The classic Borat line stuns Violent Outburst Clown into sitting back down, humiliated!

“The murderer could have been any of you, you all had your reasons! You, Morally Bankrupt Clown or even you, Murders For Sport Clown!”

Murders For Sports Clown gasps, placing a hand to his chest as he looks around the room offended.

“But the killer is NOT in this room.” The detective says, twistily!

“The killer is in fact!”










Pause for dramatic tension.









































Longer pause.












































































































































Just a little longer.



































































































Edging the pause.









































































































































































Intermission between the pause.

































































































































Secondary pause with refreshments.

















































































































Almost there.




















































































































































Post pause.



















































“MISTER OZ!” The detective lets out!

The room doesn’t gasp!

“Of course, it was obvious! Ever since I accepted his open challenge and started this promo talking about name changes, who changes their name more than this overblown clown! Ghost Tank, Big Money, Little Money, Baby No Money! It’s…” He flaps his hands around. “Gibberish!”

“Poppycock! Like every one of his inane promos! Claiming to be a monster but he’s nothing more than a puppy dog! And the victim died because of it!”

“But what about the figure the maid saw?” Asks One-Line-in-this-Promo Clown.

“Clearly it was Misdirection Clown!” The detective barks before shaking his head with sheer annoyance.

“But how did Mister Oz kill him?” Asks Follow-up Clown.

The detective checks his wristwatch.

“You’ll find out right about now!”



“A-HA!” He says pointing up to the words floating above his head. “Mister Oz didn’t plunge the knife into the victim, he was simply the root cause!”

“Someone needed a story to tell, a joke to make, a gag to gaggle, a bit to butcher! And we’ve all been played like pawns!”

“Wealthy Mystery Author Clown wasn’t his original name…”

Southern Gentleman Detective Clown goes to a statue of the victim leaning over to inspect the plaque and slaps it causing the plague to spin around rapidly before stopping and exposing a dark secret.”

“His name was Dies-for-the-Sake-of-the-Plot Clown!”

The room gasps this time.

"There was NO murder!"

"Just a simple case of sloppy and shady name changes not following the correct procedures!

“You’ve all been played like a fool! And have given me not much time to get my gimmick over!”

“But I will return for the sequel, Gag Onion, if I can have more lines!”