some weeks ago, i had a revelatory dream featuring the confederate army, clown division. well, i got a little cocky last night. i mocked the clowns. and heaven help me, they have returned.
during our last encounter, distracted by the rigors of clowny warfare and temporarily blinded by the confetti soot from their clown cannons, the embattled clowns paid me little attention. things didn't go quite so well this time around.
i have now walked through the confederate clown camp. accompanied by a clown escort, i have met their commander: chuckles (who apparently moonlighted with the rebels before dressing as a peanut and being killed by a rogue elephant on the mtm show). i have seen heaps of clown casualties- enormous piles of clown corpses with huge clown shoes protruding, clowny finery billowing in the wind.
it would seem i am to be spokeswoman for the clown confederacy. they feel misunderstood. their story has not been told. and it must be. their clown rights have been infringed. that is why they fight. why they don tattered clown pants and tangled clown wigs and pile into decrepit clown cars and make a break for the battlefield.
hurrrah! hurrah! they cheer. for clown rights hurrah!
huddled in the fetal position in the corner of a clown tent, quietly i chant, mine eyes have seen the horror of the coming of the clowns.
pass me my smelling salts, i think i shall faint.