I stood in that hot, damp courtroom, surrounded by reporters, detested former customers, and my Texan lawyer in his silly white suit-and-mustache, and I listen in awe and occasional nausea as a New York City Coroner recounted to a shellshocked jury that one of the most common forensic issues that law enforcement encounters in new york is when bodies are pulled out of the harbor–in particular, severed body parts, which are a fine new york harbor tradition. the issue being, the degradation of subcutaneous tissue (aka skin) makes it difficult if not impossible to 100% conclusively identify the deceased remains as specifically HUMAN or specifically CLOWN.
To the point that throughout the nation there are morgues exclusively dedicated to storing what might be humans remains…or what might simply be discarded byproducts from local Clown Processing Plants. Because there was no way of knowing.
In fact, the Coroner went on, there was a long, rich history of human and clown remains being, shall we say, interchanged as needed. Medical students, for example, in need of cadavers to study, used to dig up human corpses and replace them with dead, varnished clown of more or less the same size and shape (a heavy layer of varnish was necessary to disguise the natural vivid coloring of clown markings, which only fade several weeks postmortem).
the fact is, doctors have been struggling for thousands of years to find an accurate litmus test between human flesh and clown flesh.
(well. i wish they’d told me sooner.)
That, i think, was what finally did it. Not for the jury, there was no way a jury was ever going to let me walk, but it was enough to get a deadlock, resulting in a MISTRIAL, BABY!!! oh the whole courtroom glared at me all right while the judge read the verdict (the judge glared loudest of all) but I just merrily wiggled my toes as the bailiff resentfully unlocked my handcuffs. In the end the District Attorney’s office judiciously decided there was no way they could conclusively prove i’d been serving human meat to my customers. they could still prove the beef and pork charges though, which was enough to strip me of my deli license and pile on some heavy fines + plus minor jail time.
In the end, I got off with time served, and funnily enough the interview i gave to Time Magazine ended up paying all the legal fines, with just enough left over for a little retirement cottage I’d had my eye on down in the Florida swamplands. (They have great clown hunting areas in the swamplands. large, healthy populations, robust herds, multiple generations of healthy family clans roaming free. the folks at Fish & Wildlife must actually know what the hell they’re doing.)
So I packed up the remains of my little deli and prudently skipped town in the dark of the night, carrying my little hobo stick-bag and cackling dastardly all the way! And that, my friends, is the story of my Rise and Fall as a Purveyor of Fine Foodstuffs & Exotic Clown Meats.
That is the end of the dream, I’m afraid. No further events transpired, likely bc at that point my awful cat leapt on my face demanding breakfast and adoration i woke up. But please know that I awoke carrying one last Deep Dark Secret, a secret with the explosive power to tear apart the Dreamworld as we know it. A Secret so terrible and wonderous that it would completely overwrite everything we thought we knew about Clown Biology, throwing church and the international scientific community alike into shocked and fearful outrage. A Secret, in short, which i will reveal to you for the cost of $4 bc i have spent 3 hours of my misbegotten existence writing out this flaming circus of tears & terror IN MY SLEEP I HEAR CLOWNS CRYING
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