Chuckles flicks the cigarette on the ground and smothers it with his big red shoe.

“So keep pestering me, kid. ‘Cause you wanna know what tomorrow’s headline’s gonna be? Do ya, kid?”

The smell of cigarettes and whiskey on Chuckles’ breath makes the boy want to vomit.

“Clown murders family on boy’s 10th birthday, that’s what. So before you get a birthday surprise you don’t want, I suggest you fuck off.”

Tears swiftly roll down the boy’s face, but not as quickly as the pee running down his leg. The other kids begin to scream and run off.

“I know. I know. I’m fired.” Chuckles says as he waddles towards his car when several of the adults appear out of the house.

“I guess this is now a charity gig, but at least it wasn’t a total waste.” Chuckles mutters as he reaches into his oversized patchwork pocket for his car keys, and feels the bag of blow that he had taken off the mother’s nightstand.