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NaDruWritNi, Post 3 (actual fiction): Clowns R Scary

Reminding, this clown is the inspiration.... part 1.

The Bomb in his shirt was shaped like a dollar bill. George Washington’s face pooched like a saddlebag draped between his nonbreasts -- it was hard to distract from that kind of thing. The time before his arrest was short, but S traveled with smooth wheels, calm that he wouldn’t be able to escape.

He wondered where the bandana dangling loose around his neck came from and pulled up one end. The tag said China, so China it was. S didn’t slide the Chinese bandana over the bottom half of his face until he hit Broadway. Why bother?

Still, no one noticed. Not even flickering recognition lit the gazes of the pink-lipped girls as he glided by. They called and clamored with their candy lips, but their eyes fluttered endlessly across the crowd, making it impossible to say whether the sirens longed for him any more than the businessmen and birthday boys he slid past. He’d planned for the round rubber nose to attract their attention, knowing his cleavage wouldn’t do it. It was a little insulting that this hadn’t worked.

He rode on, the handlbars stiff in his hands, comforting in their resolve to carry him forward. The Bomb grew warmer and he wondered how long he had.


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