I love the circus. It's so much fun to go and watch all the different acts. I think my favorite is the elephants. They're so majestic and they stand on two legs and it's amazing. It's even better while I'm eating cotton candy and sno cones and wishing that the ringmaster will pick me to ride in his trolley. Also, I always open the program and see that little slip of paper you can fill out to have them contact you about actually joining the circus. I fill out my name, but nothing more.
You know what else I love? The smell of roasted clown and the looks of hundreds of horrified children as they watch their innocence melt away like rotting, make-up covered flesh in an incident they will tell the police about 20 years from now as they confess to killing that lovely neighbor boy "because their insatiable need for man-meat had reached an uncomfortable crescendo and could no longer be ignored."
But that's not all. They don't even touch on the most horrific part of the story in the article--little Billy's mom bought him regular yellow sheet cake instead of the ice cream cake with the fudge and crunchies in the middle like he asked for, so when the hot air balloon exploded, killing the clown and filling the tent with the smell of sorrow, it only added to the hollowness inside Billy's heart.