I make people laugh. I enjoy it. We Clowns slay 'em with laughter. My ex loved me because I made her laugh. Somewhere, she's probably still laughing.
Her and that crippled ex-priest she lets bone her. Laughing.
Nowadays I paint on my smile and... “It’s Showtime!!!”
But under the facepaint, under the skin, inside am I laughing?
Hell, yes I’m laughing, and here’s why. The big cats are fatter recently. The vultures have had extra nutritious marrow from ground up bones.
And those two bastards have stopped laughing at me.
That’s why I’m laughing now.