THE CORNER OF HILARITY AVENUE AND SHENANIGANS BOULEVARD CLOWN CITY (which is a planet)

Crossing Guard Clown checks both directions…

The coast is clear.

He blows the whistle dangling around his neck.



He raises a sign that shows a clown walking funny.



Suddenly, hundreds of clowns start crossing the street doing very silly walks.

Sleepy Clown sleepwalks across the street…

Crab Clown, the Clown who acts like a crab, crabwalks, scuttling across the intersection.

Clown Crab, the Clown who is actually a crab, also crabwalks. Which is a normal walk for him because he is a crab.

Crab Clown briefly wonders if his walk is a form of appropriation before scuttling across the street into his house, which is a shell.

Clown Crab scuttles into his luxury brownstone home because he is independently wealthy from selling shell homes to clowns that act like crustaceans and does not think about this interaction further.

Crossing Guard Clown helps a bespectacled Grandma Clown across the street, taking her arm in his arm.

He looks down… and her arm is in his arm, but she’s still back at the corner.

CGC’s eyes are wide, staring at a prosthetic arm…

“Haha, classic.” Nods Loves-the-Classics Clown, who crosses the street in a classic way.

CGC starts walking back to the corner to help Grandmother Clown insert her arm back in her socket… He blows his whistle and suddenly all the clowns stop walking, having reached their destinations: The other side of the street.

CGC nods, his neck muscles honking pridefully. Everything is as it should b-.

…

Hey! One clown is entering the intersection! Even though CGC blew his whistle!

Jaywalking Clown is intentionally jaywalking!



Crossing Guard Clown rapidly blows his slide whistle! Jaywalking Clown thumbs his nose at CGC!

“Hey! You’re jaywalking, Jaywalking Clown! Get out of the intersection!”

“Up yours, square!”

Square Clown, the clown who just finished square-dancing across the street, stops square-dancing at the corner, and glances over.

“What did I do?”

“Nothing! Didn’t have to!” Jaywalking Clown scoffs as his shoes scuff across the street. “I’m Jaywalking Clown! None of your rules don’t apply to me!”

CGC continues blowing his whistle, eyes wide, face red! (as it often is, because his face is painted red)! “Seriously, pal! If you don’t cross in the crosswalk, who knows what’ll happen?!?”

“Pssssh!” Jaywalking Clown scoffs skeptically, as he stands in the middle of the intersection. “What could possibly happ-“

CGC blows his whistle! “WATCH OOOOOOOOUT!”

“OUTTA THE WAAAAAAAAAAAY!”

Suddenly, a van with a decal of a grumpy clown tears around the corner, barreling toward the intersection!

“I’M VERY BUSY CLOWN! I HAVE TO MAKE THIS DELIVERY!”

CGC blows his whistle! “Stop before you hit that clown!”

“I DON’T HAVE TIME TO STOP FOR PEDESTRIANS! I’M NOT STOP FOR PEDESTRIANS CLOWN!” I’M VERY BUSY CLOWN!”

The light is green! Jaywalking Clown stops like a deer in headlights!

Deer-in-Headlights Clown shakes his antlers, offended at the appropriation of his whole deal, because he isn’t independently wealthy.

Jaywalking Clown turns his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest helplessly!

The van vrooms!

…

And speeds past, narrowly avoiding hitting Jaywalking Clown!

…

Jaywalking Clown slowly peeks one eye open… before drawing his hand across his brow and wiping away the flop sweat from his forehead. He turns back to CGC smugly.

“See? I jaywalked and nothing happ-“

Suddenly, Stabs-Jaywalkers Clown zips to the intersection and stabs Jaywalking Clown in the back.

As the knife honks into his back, his freshly open wound sounds like a kazoo.

CGC shakes his head. “THAT’S what I was telling you to watch out for’!

Jaywalking Clown falls to his knees in agony, staring up in agony and disbelief at his attacker.

“…Y-… You just stabbed me!”

“Yeah! I’m Stabs-Jaywalkers Clown! Up yours, square!”

Square-Dancing Clown stops dancing again, looking over in disbelief. “Man, I am catching all kinds of strays today…”

“Stay in your lane.” Barks Stray-Catching Clown as he catches a Clown sporting dog ears in a big net.

Stray Clown exhales, caught in the net, before turning to the camera. “It’s a living.”


In the passenger seat of the Very Busy Clown Delivery Van, a clown peers backwards out of the passenger side window.

“Whoa! Did you see that guy you almost hit got stabbed by another clown?”

“I DON’T HAVE TIME TO SEE THINGS! I’M NOT SEES-THINGS CLOWN! I’M VERY BUSY CLOWN!”

“Oh okay. I’m Patient Clown, by the way.” Patient Clown extends his hand, seemingly unaffected by his companion’s loud shouting. “Thanks for hiring me.”

“I DON’T HAVE TIME TO SHAKE HANDS OR LEARN YOUR NAME AND WHOLE CLOWN DEAL. I’M NOT HANDSHAKING OR DEAL-LEARNING CLOWN. I’M VERY BUSY CLOWN.”

“Oh, okay.” Patient Clown reels back his hand…

He glances out the window.

He briefly fiddles with his seatbelt, which semi-silently honks as he adjusts it.

He glances backwards at the crate in the van’s rear.

“What are we delivering anyway?”

He stretches his neck toward the backseat…

He reads a big red stamp on the crate which reads…

TITLE SHOTS! TO BE USED BY DOCTOR CLOWNS FOR HILARIOUS MEDICAL PURPOSES ONLY!

Patient Clown’s eyebrows lift with a hint of curiosity! As his eyebrows lift, his forehead wrinkles honk.

“Whoa. We’re delivering title shots? Those are pretty controversial, right?”

“I DON’T HAVE TIME TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS, I’M NOT QUESTION-ANSWERING CLOWN, I’M VERY BUSY CLOWN!”

…Patient Clown scratches the top of his white bald head. “I mean, you do have time to do things that aren’t being very busy, right? I mean you have time to drive this van and you’re not Van-Driving Clown?”

“VAN DRIVING CLOWN CALLED IN SICK. HE BROKE HIS FUNNY BONE. I HAD TO CLEAR MY WHOLE SCHEDULE TO COVER HIS VAN-DRIVING OBLIGATIONS.”

“…Really?” Patient Clown leans forward, interested. “So… then why are you the clown to cover for Van-Driving Clown if Van-Driving Clown can’t drive a van?”

“BECAUSE THAT’S MY DEAL. I COVER CLOWNS WHO CAN’T DO THEIR THING FOR A DAY. IT’S WHY I’M SO BUSY.”

“Oh!” …Patient Clown’s eye focus with recognition, “So, you’re very busy because you cover other clowns when they can’t do their clown thing?”

“YES.” VBC hisses impatiently.

“…So shouldn’t you call yourself, like… Temp Clown? Or Substitute Clown? It feels like either of those would explain your whole deal better than Very Busy Clown.”

“I DON’T HAVE TIME TO CONSIDER MY PERSONAL BRANDING. I’M VERY BUSY CLOWN.”

VBC sticks his thumb out the window to point to the side of his van…



“…I mean.” Patient Clown strokes his chin thoughtfully. “It feels like if you had time to add ‘I don’t have time to think of a slogan’ to your decal, you probably had time to think of a slogan?”

“GRAAAAAAAAAGH.” Howls VBC furiously, smacking his hands against the van’s steering wheel.

“Sorry, you must not have time to consider how much time you spend expressing you don’t have time to do things that aren’t explaining that you don’t have time to do things.” Patient Clown shrugs affably, with total understanding and empathy in his tone. “Maybe we can talk after work about time management techniques? Or we can do it later. No rush.. I’m Patient Clown.”

“A BLOCKADE?!?”

Indeed, across the street, a beat-up jalopy of a clown car… well, even more beat up than your average clown car… is parked sideways across the street…

“GOD CLOWN DAMMIT!” VBC shifts gears showing no signs of slowing down his van… “I DON’T HAVE TIME TO STOP FOR A BLOCKADE! I’M VERY BUSY CLOWN!”

Five clowns slowly emerge from the alleys around the car… The front most clown, a clown with a chain around his fist, sneers confidently.

“Don’t worry, gang! He’s **gotta** stop.”

“…Sooooo…” Patient Clown… strokes his chin, calmly considering the situation as the vehicle he’s occupying hurtles at high speed toward a parked car. “You don’t have time to stop before hitting a car blocking your way, correct?”

“CORRECT.”

“But then you have time to crash your car, exchange insurance information, go through the process of waiting for an insurance-approved mechanic to assess the damage…”

VBC spins toward Patient Clown, his gash awash with abject horror.

“I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR ANY OF THOSE THINGS! I’M VERY BUSY CLOWN!”

“Right, but…” Patient Clown explores this topic patiently. “If you think about it, it’s one or the other. By choosing to not spend time taking a precautionary option that would admittedly add a momentary delay to your delivery…”

“MOMENTARY DELAY?!?” VBC shrieks like that’s the worst combination of words his ears have ever heard.

“You’re choosing to be forced to handle a much longer delay resulting from the consequences and aftermath of your decision to reject a momentary delay. In the grand scheme, choosing to stop the car is actually the more efficient decision because of how much time you’d waste dealing with a pointless car accident that you’d have caused by not stopping.”

The Clown with the chain around his knuckles flattens his lips as the van… if anything, it seems like it’s actually accelerating.

“Uh… Any second now… he’s gonna start slowing down… It’d be… crazy to not stop.”

VBC grits his teeth. His hands clench the steering wheel with fury. “I DON’T HAVE TIME TO DO A COST-BENEFITS ANALYSIS OF MY CHOICE TO NOT CONSIDER THE GRAND SCHEME OF THE TIME COST ASSOCIATED WITH NOT STOPPING THE CAR.”

Patient Clown calmly sets his hands in his lap, before turning back to the dashboard. “Okay, well. Take your time.” He squints his eyes. “If I’m doing the clown math correctly in my head, you have…”

…Patient Clown looks up at the ceiling of the van, doing some mental math…

“About five seconds before we ram into the car in front of us.”

Patient Clown weaves his fingers behind his head casually, before pulling his clown phone out of his pocket and checking his favorite clown idle game.

“No rush or anything. I’m Patient Clown.”

The Clown with a chain around his knuckles’s face turns white.

…Well, whiter. It’s already painted white. And that facepaint is thankfully sweatproof, because he is sweating bullets.

“Clown Jesus Christ, he’s not slowing down… Uh…” Clown with a chain around his knuckles panickedly looks backward. “Um… Hold your ground, I guess!”

The other four clowns look surprised by the order, because it’s the dumbest thing they could possibly do, but stand in front of their car, lined up in a single file…

“UUUUUUURGH.” grunts VBC, voice brimming with a righteous indignant anger.

“Oh hey.”[green] Patient Clown holds up his phone showing Clown Maps to VBC. [green]“We’re here apparently.”

FRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHH.

Skidmarks, literally so hot they’re smoking, so long and girthy they’d make Massive Dong Clown feel inadequate.

The van comes to a sudden screeching halt…

…

The van’s elevated hood ornament, which is a small steel figure of Very Busy Clown, tapping his wrist.

…Comes millimeters from connecting with the Clown with the chain on his knuckle’s chin...


“Phew. Close call! That almost hit me, huh, fellas?”

Around the Clown with a chain on his knuckle, all four of his colleagues are laying on the street in various levels of unconscious, having been plowed through by the car. At the last moment, he’d dashed from the front of the line to the back.

The van’s engine turns off with a honk, because when a car turns off in Clown City, there’s a honk.

Separately, and for the record, if you’ve imagined a sound at any point over the course of this story that wasn’t a honk or at least honk-like? Go back to the beginning and start reading again because you should have way more mental honks going through your head at this point.

“HONK!” Honks VBC, which is what clowns say instead of ‘harumph!’ in Clown City, as he slides his car key back into his pocket with a honk. “C’mon, you clown! We got a delivery to deliver!”

“Technically, we have **cargo** to deliver and a delivery to **complete**. You can’t deliver a delivery.”

“OH MY GOD, SHUDDUP.”

Outside the van, the Clown with a chain on his knuckle grips the driver’s side door handle.

““Alright! Get outta there, you clowns! This is a sticku-”

WHAM! The door opens straight down like a ramp which crushes the chain-wielding clown.

“ALRIGHT! GRAB THE OTHER END OF THAT CRATE AND SHAKE A TAILFEATHER!”

Emerging down the ramp, both VBC and Patient Clown carry an end of the crate with one hand and shake a single chicken tail feather with their opposite hands.

“So, just checking, you don’t have time to NOT hit someone with your car, but you DO have time for bits?”

“I DON’T HAVE TIME TO GO OVER HOW I DO AND DO NOT DECIDE WHAT I DO AND DO NOT HAVE TIME TO DO! I’M NOT SELF-AWARE CLOWN!”

VBC and Patient Clown carry the box down the ramp towards the building they’ve parked on the street outside of.

…The Clown wielding a knuckle chain snaps to. He presses his fingers to his lips and whistles.

It sounds like a honk. His lackeys all rise from their unconscious states lying about the street!

“Snap to, you clowns! We’re going in…”

CLOWN CITY HOSPITAL

Patient Clown and VBC set the crate down in the lobby.

They’re met by…

DOCTOR CLOWN MD

(raucous studio audience applause, party rattlers, so much fucking honking)

“Hello, I’m Doctor Clown, MD. How can I help you two?”

“I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR HELP OR GREETINGS OR CLOWNY WARMTH.” VBC sneers, before shoving a form in Doctor Clown’s face. “JUST SIGN THIS FORM ACKNOWLEDGING DELIVERY.”

Patient Clown rolls his eyes, before extending a hand. “Hi, sorry about him. Take your time signing that. I’m Patient Clown.”

Patient Clown and Doctor Clown shakes hands…

They both are shocked! They’re both wearing joy buzzers, as is clown custom.

Doctor Clown nods with a smile, shaking the shock out of his wrist… Before his eyes widen. “Wait, sorry, did you say you’re Patient Clown?”

“No need to apologize, I can say it as many times until it’s understood. Yes, I am Patient Clown.”

“THIS INTRO IS TAKING FOREVER, SIGN MY GODDAMNED FORM!”

“I’ve been looking for you! After all, I’m Doctor Clown!” Doctor Clown rubs his hands together. “Come back to my Observatorium!”

“I can’t come back if I’ve never been there.”

“Fair point. Accompany me.”

The two leave the lobby, heading deeper into the hospital.

“GODDAMMIT, SIGN MY FORM!” VBC chases after them!

…

The crate is left alone!

“Finally!” The chain-wielding clown and his cronies surround it! “The title shots! They’re all ours!”


Doctor Clown pats his examination table.

Patient Clown sits on it.

“Now! You’re Patient Clown?”

“Yes sir.”

“Perfect!” Doctor Clown, MD pulls out a form. “So, what brings you in?”

“A delivery, actually.”

“Ah!” Doctor Clown nods sagely, before examining Patient Clown’s abdomen. “And how far along is your pregnancy?”

“...I’m a male, doctor.”

“Oh, me too! I’m a male doctor!” Doctor Clown goes for a high five.

Patient Clown gives him five back.

“Mmm…” Doctor Clown makes a note in his chart. “Weak… high… five…”

Patient Clown gasps! “Weak high five?!?”

“Barely a five at all! Maybe a three if I’m being kind.”

Doctor Clown MD finishes jotting something down in his notes. “So, you’re not pregnant, doctor?”

…Patient Clown peers confused. “Oh wait, sorry. No.”

“No, you’re not NOT pregnant?”

“No, I’m NOT a doctor.”

“Ah!” Doctor Clown, MD nods sagely. “So, you need a doctor’s opinion to check if you’re pregnant…”

Doctor Clown MD fishes into his pocket. Here, take this pregnancy test.” He retrieves a stick and gives it to Patient Clown.

“Okay.” Patient Clown turns around and unzips his fly.

WHAM! The door gets kicked in by VBC! He waves his form in the air!

“I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR WACKY DOCTOR-PATIENT HIJINX! SIGN THIS FORM SO I CAN WRAP UP THIS DELIVERY!”

“Ahhhhh! You’re also affiliated with this delivery?”

“I’M THE ONE DOING THE DELIVERY! THIS GUY JUST WANTS TO RUN HIS GOB ALL DAY ABOUT WHAT MY DEAL IS!”

“Mmmm, quick to anger… Possibly hormones related with the pregnancy…” Doctor Clown, MD pulls out a second chart and starts jotting notes on it…

Patient Clown turns back around with the stick. “Here, I peed on it. How long do we wait for the plus or minus?”

“What?!? Why’d you pee on that?”

“You told me it was a pregnancy test.”

“Yes!” Doctor Clown MD dons rubber gloves and unrolls what appears to be a stick, but is actually a sheet of paper.

It has one question printed on it.

“Hey, are you pregnant?” ( ) Yes ( ) No

“LOOK! I JUST WANT TO DELIVER THIS DELIVERY, OKAY?!?”

“You can’t deliver a delivery!”

“Au contraire!” Doctor Clown MD shakes his head defiantly! “I once delivered a baby being delivered to a residential address! Did it in 28 minutes!”

“Why?”

“If I took any longer, the delivery would have been free.”

KERASH!

All three spin back toward the lobby!

“Someone’s in my lobby!”

They all dash out!


“Dammit! You clowns!” The chain-wielding clown pinches his brow… “How hard can it be to use these stupid things?!?”

Our intrepid trio returns to the lobby!

In the room’s center, the crate has been opened… Syringes are strewn all over the lobby!

“Hey!” Doctor Clown frowns. “Those are MY title shots!”

““Not anymore, Doctor! They’re now the property of…”

“SURGEON OF THUGANOMICS CLOWN!”



“...What?”

“I’m Surgeon of Thuganomics Clown! Also, Chain Gang Clown!”

“...What the heck is a Surgeon of Thuganomics Clown?”

“Ugh.” The chain-wielding clown rolls his eyes. ““You know how like… some people are Doctors in Economics or something?”

“Sure.”

““Well, I’m a SURGEON in THUGANOMICS!”

…

“No, somehow that makes less sense.”

““Shuddup! It makes TOTAL sense!”

“No, See…” Patient Clown patiently tries to break down this issue. “People are called Doctors in like, Economics because they have a doctorate. There aren’t surgeons of economics.”


CUTAWAY: A surgeon in a bank.

“Scalpel.”

A surgical assistant hands the surgeon a scalpel.

“First incision.”

…He runs the blade… And cuts the rubber band around a bundle of twenties.

“Aaaaaand…”

He slips one off the top and hands it to someone.

“There’s your withdrawal!”


““Look, I’m Surgeon of Thuganomics Clown, okay? And these are my fellow partners in clown crime!”



“Razor Clown! The clown that always carries a razor!”

Razor Clown reaches in his pocket. “Mess with me and you’re in for a CLOSE SHAVE!”

…

He fishes around for a little bit...

…

“I forgot the Razor.”

“Crazy Lady Clown! She’s crazy!”



“I’m crazy!”

“She’s crazy!”

“Why’s she dressed like a ninja turtle?”

“I’m CRAZY!”



“El Payaso de Landerson!”

“What is a… Payaso de Landerson?”

“Es español, gringo! It means ‘Landerson Clown!’”

“...Okay.” Patient Clown scratches his head. “And… what does Landerson Clown mean?”

“It’s the direct English translation of Payaso de Landerson!”



“And finally! Really Strong Lady Clown!”

…

Patient Clown scratches his head.

“This lady is the second least clowny clown in your group after the one dressed as a ninja turtle.”

“Turtles are CRAZY!”

“I just…” Patient Clown purses his lips in thought. “I feel like clowns should have a clear thing and… none of you do!”

“GASP!” gasps Doctor Clown! “I get it! You’re right, Patient Clown! These clowns are…”

…

“Actually, hold on, let’s go walk over to the trash can real quick. So we can talk trash.”


Jump Cut to everyone talking next to a big dumpster.

“Great, thank you.”

Doctor Clown, MD turns to the camera.

“These goofs don’t have a clear thing! Because they’re not anything! They’re gimmick first and content second. And by second, I mean never!”

“They’re UNTITLED clowns!”

“Untitled clowns?!?”

“OH GOD, I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR SOMEONE TO EXPLAIN UNTITLED CLOWNS! I’M VERY BUSY CLOWN!”

“And that’s your whole deal as a clown, being very busy! But some clowns don’t have deals!”

]“But I thought you could just claim an unoccupied deal! Like when Analogy Clown became Pastrami on Rye Clown!”

“Or when I stopped being Massive Dong Clown and started being Doctor Clown Massive Dong.” Doctor Clown MD nods “But! Not every clown can claim a deal! There are actually fewer deals than clowns in Clown City! So, some poor clowns wander the streets without deals! Hoping to find one! And that’s these silly goose’s! They’re desperate to have a thing, and they’ve clearly tried to steal the spirit of a thing from people who have a thing already… but without any of understanding of what makes that THING so special!”

Doctor Clown MD points to the title shots, the syringes strewn about the lobby! “That’s the problem these new title shots are supposed to solve! One simple injection and clowns that have never had a title before can suddenly claim one!”

“AND THAT’S WHY WE’RE TAKING THEM! ALL OF THEM! EVERY TITLE SHOT IS GOING TO BE OURS!” The Untitled Clown claiming to be a Surgeon in Thuganomics claims!

“And there is nada you can do to stop us!” Says Landerson Clown!

“Oh no!” Patient Clown gasps! “They’re going to take the whole shipment of title shots for themselves, Doctor!”

“Hmmm, non-issue.” Shrugs Doctor Clown. “See…”

Doctor Clown walks over to the Untitled Clown claiming to be Crazy Lady Clown… He points at her, poking a syringe against her arm… it doesn’t go in… she eventually sets it on the ground and starts ineffectually smacking it like a chimpanzee.

“These poor fools… even if you gave them all the title shots they demanded, they couldn’t do anything with them! They’re totally unable to use a title shot at all!”

“Razor Blade Clown” attempts to apply the syringe to his lips like chapstick.

“Payaso de Landerson” tries to sample it like a bouquet of wine, smelling it.

“Really Strong Lady Clown” bearhugs the syringe… shattered glass coats her biceps.

“...Wow! You’re right, Doctor! They may not have titles or facepaint… and some of them are dressed in a ninja turtle costume with a Spirit Halloween tag still on the mask…”

THE XWF IS STILL SPONSORED BY SPIRIT HALLOWEEN!

“But these folks are still the clowniest clowns around! How can anyone take them seriously at all?!?”

“It’s not fair!” Crazy Lady Clown paws helplessly at the title shot syringe… “Why can’t we have a title shot?”

Doctor Clown gets on one knee and pats her on the shoulder.

“You can! Anyone can! You just have to do a bare minimum of work to qualify and then you can have a tit-”

“WORK?!? GROSSSSSSSS!”

All five untitled clowns hiss and scatter out of the building and back into the alleys…

…

“Huh.”

“I guess these title shots are ours then.”

Doctor Clown, MD signs VBC’s sheet.

“And that’s no laughing matter.”