The Demon Clowns IN FOOD FOR THOUGHT!

Warning: graphic violence and imagery!

“It’s no use running because we’ll catch you!”

The three demon clowns were closing in.

It might not have been any use, but he ran anyway. He ran all the way down the station platform, got to the end and just stopped. He knew he was licked.

It wasn't until he heard the approach of a train that he smiled. Then he screamed once and jumped on to the tracks.

The train hit him at breakneck speed. He was dead before his body was torn assunder. Bits of him were scattered all over the place.

The clowns nodded to one another and smiled as they flew down to the tracks.

Yes, these clowns could fly.

His flesh tasted good, salty and sweet at the same time. They ate whatever they could find: bones and sinews even the mangled body parts.

His guts were the real delicacy though, filled as they were with his last meal.

“Mac Donald’s," one of them announced in his slightly nasal voice.

The other nodded. “Fries too but some chicken bits as well.”

The third clown was smiling mischievously. “I think he probably found two half eaten meals. I'd say it was the Big M and Kentucky Fried."


He was annoyed when the other two didn’t reply. He liked being agreed with. So he waited.

When the others felt his blood red eyes upon them they spoke.

Happy said he thought Red Eyes was right and Fuzzy agreed.

“You’re always right, Red Eyes. That’s why we respect you so MUCH!"

They were demons from hell--clown-like monsters from Satan’s own domain. The damned like a circus too, who doesn’t?

They tended to come and go as much as they liked. No hidden apertures for them to pass through. No that was old hat.

Besides, they preferred the city, any big city, Paris, London and New York were their favorites.

For the past century or so they had been coming to New York.

“I love the Big Apple. So much to eat!"

They meant, of course, the homeless.

Paris pissed them off because their homeless were regularly carted away. They were considered far too unsightly to be left around.

As for London, there were just less homeless, social services was a big player there.

But New York! Now, there was a place! They had their pick in New York, everything from lone beggars to groups of homeless to children, even.

 

Entire families were also homeless sometimes. They tended to live in cars (if they were lucky to have one that is), but that was not a problem for the clowns. These were strong demons and they could tear metal apart with their teeth.

And so on the occasions when they’d come to sup, they’d feed all night and sleep all day. Any quiet place would do. An abandoned building was perfect because they’d feast upon any squatters they found there.

Then like most beings after a good meal, they’d yawn and stretch and recount various murderous adventures they had.

Generally it all concerned food. Meals were important to them. It’s just the way they were.

“I do like eye balls. And do you know,” Fuzzy said, "eyes taste different depending on their color."

Happy didn’t agree with him at first but then he did. He did because he performed a little taste test on the head he was currently holding.

The head still happened to contain eyes which were blue.

He pried one out and popped it in his mouth. "Mmmm!" he said while trying to make up his mind. “I’d say that tastes…”

“Almost minty?"

"Yes, Fuzzy, You are quite right they do taste minty. There's kind of a minty after taste."

After ruminating on the varying taste of eyes they fell asleep, although Fuzzy woke up during the night because he felt like eating something meaty.

*

                                         

He hadn’t walked that far from his friends when he spotted a tall, thin man, a man who looked lost.

The homeless always looked lost so he wasn’t surprised.

He smiled and crept along the station platform.

Yes, they were still in the subway.

Moving amongst the shadows he found he made steady progress as he went along.

At last he got within yards of the man. He sniffed the air and smiled. He was pleased. The man didn’t stink. So often their quarry did. But this man smelled fragrant.

Ah. Fuzzy thought to himself. Maybe he’d permit himself a grope or two or more if he felt like it.

Naturally, he’d wait until the guy was dead—before he‘d permit himself the luxury of a good old necrophile feel-up.

He liked doing that. There was a lot to be said for such shenanigans as Red Eyes referred to them. But he was critical. "There’s no dignity in molesting the dead, Fuzzy, really even for demon clowns there are limits."

Fuzzy was so caught up in his thoughts he barely noticed the stranger turn around. When he did he was shocked. For the man was smiling at him.

“Good evening, how do you do?”

Fuzzy nearly smiled when the man did. But his smile vanished when the man smiled broadly.

"Yes, I know. Quite something these teeth of mine. My father was a demon clown you see but mother—!"

Without saying another word he flew toward Fuzzy and began tearing into his neck.

“Mmm that is good. Your blood is tinged with the scent of sulphur but I like it anyway. As I was saying…my mother was a vampire you see.”

Those were the last words Fuzzy heard.

His comrades Red Eyes and Happy did indeed hear more, they heard the sound of their own testicles being cannibalized for their killer was something of a connoisseur not only of blood but of exotic things like the sexual organs of DEMON CLOWNS!

972 words

© Copyright 2012 Carole Gill