Clown

“Go on, fight me!”

Clown turned his head towards the commotion. Two men were standing in the center of the room. Their faces were red with anger, and they were most likely drunk.

“You moron!” one of them shouted. “I didn’t steal your beer!”

“If my eyes work, then you DID take my beer!” the other shouted back.

“Guys,” a panicked voice shouted from the growing crowd. “You can’t throw hands right now! That’s a violation of the treaty signed today!”

“Suck it up,” the first man yelled at him. “I don’t care about some dumb treaty! I’ll fight when and where I want!”

The men raised their fists and swung at each other, but they suddenly froze. Everyone stared in shock. Blood began to pour out of them. Two small knives sank far into their lungs.

“Obey the law next time.” Clown chirped cheerfully from his seat across the room. He stood up and walked over to the slowly dying bodies on the floor. He leaned close to one of the men’s ears and slightly lifted his mask.

“You deserve to die suffering.” He chuckled. He reached towards the man’s lung and pulled out his knife. He looked at the other man and grabbed his other knife away from him.

“Look what you made me do.” Clown sighed. “My knives are all bloody because of you. Don’t you know I am so busy, and it takes an eternity to wash knives?” He turned away from the dying men and walked back to his seat.

“For that,” He continued. “Die a slow and painful death.” He laughed slightly to himself. He sat back at his table and pulled his hood higher over his head.

“CLOWN?!” an enraged voice yelled from the doorway across the room.

“Yyyeeessss?” Clown asked cheerfully.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” the voice yelled again. A woman with long black hair came stalking up to him. Her lime-green eyes stared angrily at his smiling mask.

“I don’t know,” Clown replied. “You tell me.” He tilted his head to the side and, beneath his mask, smiled. He loved teasing people, especially women.

“THOSE WERE-” She began.

“STOP YELLING!” Another voice shouted from near the bodies. He threw a knife in front of the woman to shut her up.

“Watch it!” She hissed. She turned to look back at Clown. He sat crisscrossed on the bench and rocked back and forth.

“You jackas-” She tried again.

“Hey!” Clown interrupted. “No cursing! Bad woman!” He tapped her on her head and tried to look angry. His mask always bore a smile, yet its eyes aligned with his. When he felt anger, the black eyes would match his own, reflecting his true emotions.

“Kimoka,” the man from earlier warned. “DON’T.” He stared uneasily at Clown as he smiled at Kimoka.

“If you have a problem,” Clown warned happily. “State your mind! As most people should know, I am one of the most trustworthy and accepting people!” To his delight, he heard snorts and muffled laughs in the crowd.

The woman hesitated; she glanced nervously at his pockets and the knives strung across his chest.

“Uh,” She said. “I just wanted to tell you that Warden has information. He asked for you specifically.”

Clown tipped his head to the side. Warden doesn’t send for people unless something could ruin his reputation.

“Huh,” Clown sighed. “I wonder what I did this time.” He lifted himself off the bench and walked towards the door. He glanced back at the crowd. Most people had sat back down. A few were cleaning up the mess Clown had made.

Clown chuckled slightly. With that, he closed the giant wooden door behind him and began his walk to the Warden’s.