Despite the overcast Maine weather, the voluptuous Cindy was out for a jog, clad in stretched-tight yoga pants and tank-top. She was really working up a sweat on her curvy body, when a clamoring, waving commotion caught her attention. Cindy didn't know what to make of the approaching crowd of worry-faced kids, who seemed desperate to get her attention. The early teenagers and tweens were babbling incoherently, gesturing towards the nearby sewer outlet and crying, as Cindy managed to discern the words 'Friend,' 'trapped,' and 'sewer.'
Realizing something terrible must of happened, the worried jogger fished a cheerful, pink cellphone out of her tight-fitting pants, only for a chubby redheaded child to swipe it out of her hand. Another scrawny, stuttering child yammered "N-n-n-no time! He's drowning, you gotta g-g-get down there f-f-fast!" as the crowd of children insistently grabbed at Cindy's wrists and pushed at her back, urging her down to help their friend, who was apparently stuck in the drainpipe.
Cindy felt so rushed and hurried by the imperiled attitude of the childish mob, that it wasn't until she was hunched over, desperately clutching a tiny flashlight, that it struck her how woefully unprepared she was to help in this situation. Weird noises kept emanating from the stinking culvert, as Cindy began to question the whole scenario, especially why they kids had already been prepared with a flashlight to hand her. The exhausted runner was about to turn around and flee, when she spied a brightly-colored figure flashing across the beam of her flashlight. Paralyzed with fear, she nervously called out "Hello? Kid? I'm here to help! A-are you drowning in here?"
Cindy became even more fearful, as she heard in response "Fuck me, you're a total butter-face bimbo, aint'cha? Goddamn hooligans don't give a rats ass about quality vs quantity." The malevolent, mocking, and utterly inhuman voice terrified the unprepared woman beyond measure. It then continued "Anyway, you'll float, look into the Dead Lights, et cetera et cetera, good food good meat, good god let's eat!" were the last words Cindy heard, as a grease painted, red nosed face reared up from the sewer depths. The brightly-garbed creature's clown face twisted into a monstrous, slavering maw, as it lunged at Cindy. She barely had time to scream, before the quivering, fleshy clown maw descended over her homely features in an instant.
The predatory clown ruthlessly overpowered its feminine prey. Cindy felt clammy hands pinning her arms to her sides, as it's grease-painted lips lewdly slurped around the nape of her neck and the back of her head. The voracious harlequin's garish tassels and flamboyant ruffles shook violently as it wolfed down the struggling woman, whole and alive. A chorus of muffled shrieks, jangling tinker-bells, and obscene squelches echoed out of the sewer's entrance, as the once-panicked crowd of kids stoically waited outside.
None of the children seemed overly concerned by the wretched, miserable noises emanating from the dank cesspool outlet's entrance. They were more focused on their phones and tablets, some blocking out the grisly cacophony with shining air pod earbuds. The fat redheaded child stared at his phone's clock, noting how late it was getting as he rolled his eyes, sighing as he complained "Fucking Chud ass clussy-boi's really taking his time, fucker thinks we like hanging out in this turd pond?" a tomboyish waif responded "Why's he a Chud? I haven't noticed him discriminating with the girls we bring him." The portly lad sneered, and responded "I meant in the traditional sense, Megan. Cannibalistic, humanoid, underground dweller. But you wouldn't know anything about a classic like that, would you flat tits?" Megan responded with her own sneer, and answered "You got me there, your tits are certainly larger than mine."
The children stopped their argument, as a haggard, monstrous clown awkwardly scuttled up out of the culvert, looking comical for all the wrong reasons in the gloomy New England midday light. They noticed his bloated, squirming stomach, as a chorus of pitiful squeals ceaselessly echoed out from within, the adolescents seeming totally inured to such an obscene sight. "Better not be any wipe-marks on that money, Bozo, we want cash, not toilet paper. Not sure a sewer-dweller would know the difference," mocked the once-stuttering schoolkid, who sucked on a vape-pen. The dispirited clown monstrosity didn't even bother snapping back, as its clawed hand awkwardly fished out some crumpled notes from its comically large pant-suit pockets for the eager crowd of youths.
"What the shit, Pennywhistle? You said you'd give us a $100 bucks a woman! Fucking cunt, $50 bucks? We'll send you another AIDs hobo if you try to down-sell us again." The garishly made-up monstrosity's yellow eyes nervously scanned back and fourth, as it explained "I-I said $100 for a pretty girl, that fuggo was like, a 5/10 if you squinted with beer goggles." The fat ginger responded by spitting at the clown's oversized shoes, screeching "Bozobitch! Pay up or we'll start believing in ourselves and suck an Indian chief's dick or something, and banish you to Purgatory or wherever God sends all the fag-monsters!" The clown creature's inhuman, yellow eyes looked like they were close to tears, as Pennywhistle dejectedly fished around in his pockets for more notes, pulling out several chains of brightly colored scarves, but no money. "L-look, I gotta eat on credit for a bit, time's are tough. Just one more chick, and I'll get you all a payday. Just one more..." came Pennywhistle's haunted, hungry voice, as he belched loudly.
The kids just shook their heads in disgust, as Pennywhistle spat out a pair of slime-drenched yoga pants, choking on the last bit of legging. "Don't gag, grandpa. You gotta pay us back, remember?" sneered the boyish tween, as the gang sped off, leaving the haggard clown monster in his shame. Pennywhistle groaned in frustration, speaking to himself ashamedly "Fucking bushy-headed Zoomers. They're so fucking mature and genre-savy with their goddamn phablets... think they can boss me around. Goddamnit Pennywhistle, what the fuck happened to you?" The clown beast wept bitterly, as it was filled with regret over its diminished stature.