Her pink face was painted pale white, except around her eyes where the white was disrupted by inky black circles. A sloppily painted teardrop decorated her left cheek but Pinstripe hardly noticed it, or the tinge of green now coloring the ends of her tangled mane. He was busy staring at her scars.
What's the matter kid, don't you like clowns? Why? Don't we make ya laugh? Aren't we fuckin' funny? You best come up with an answer, cause I'm gonna come back here and check on you and your mama, and if you ain't got a reason why you hate clowns, I'm gonna kill your whole fuckin' family.
Brienne of Tarth: You are no better than the rest of them. You have robbed and raped and murdered. Shagwell the Fool: Oh, I have, I have, I shant deny it... but Im amusing, with all my japes and capers. I make men laugh. Brienne of Tarth: And women weep. Shagwell the Fool: Is that my fault? Women have no sense of humor.
And laughter rose from the circus tent as the clowns drove on in their happy jalopy and gave balloons to the children, and when they left there were smiles on the faces of nearly all those in the audience, except for the very clever children who sensed that there was more to clowns than bright suits and funny cars and oversized feet, and that if you were wise you didn't laugh at them, and you stayed out of their way, and you never pryed into their business, for clowns are lonely and angry and want company in their misery. They are always seeking, always searching for new clowns to join them...
All Paris, it seemed, talked of the capering mountebank. Mention was made of his padded paunch, his camel's hump, his gross red nose, his too-wide grin, his terrible teeth, his rouged cheeks, his white gloves with long sharp nails bursting the fingertip seams, his red-and-white striped tights, his jerkin embroidered with skulls and snakes and bats, his shock of white hair, his curly-toed boots, his quick mind, his cruel quips, his shrill songs...
Nate: What do you think parents are most afraid of? Parker: Clowns. Nate: No. Parker: Evil clowns? Nate: No, Parker. Parker: Crazy clowns called Geegee who whisper your name from under your bed? Nate: (beat) No.
TC: I AM GOING TO MOTHERFUCKING KILL ALL YOU MOTHERFUCKERS. TC: and paint the wicked pictures with your motherfuckin blood. TC: FROM YOUR VEINS WILL DRIP MY MIRACLES. TC: your crushed bones will make my special stardust. TC: WELCOME TO THE DARK CARNIVAL, BROTHER.
Napalm Man: The fact of the matter is that Kefka is nothing more than a glorified clown. Cut Man: I believe you underestimate the sheer fear-inducing energy a clown possesses. Take The Joker for example. For starters, he was played by Jack Nicholson. That's kinda scary enough. Then he was played by Mark Hamill, the most evil voice actor in the world. To hell with acting, Mark Hamill WAS the Joker. Also, clowns with chainsaws? SCARY AS ALL HOLY HELL. That should be outlawed in every place on Earth. Ever. And look at Kefka himself. He looks like he fell off the insanity tree, hit every branch on the way down, then hit a trampoline, and hit them again. Napalm Man: But Why would Emperor Ghestahl even have Kefka as a high-ranking member of the military if he looked like a clown? Cut Man: When you're charging at your enemy, who's charging at you with their weapon drawn... who would you rather see? One of those evil The Lord of the Rings orcs? Or an insane clown?
And there's this clown... but it's not a very funny clown. He made me realize why I'm so afraid of clowns. [...] He is a psychopathic clown with deep psychological issues who looks like he put on his grandmother's makeup wrong.
With Krinkles the Clown as the mascot, every serving of Sugar Krinkles now had the vitamins and minerals of one handful of flesh and the fear you need to get you going in the morning. The prize inside every box was whispers. Whenever you lost a kitchen knife in 1969, you would somehow always find it inside New Post's Sugar Krinkles. The side of the box had photos of missing children, but each of them was labeled "Ingredients." Sugar Krinkles was eventually pulled from the shelf, but Krinkles the Clown continued to find work. He now appears in mirrors every time you look away from them.
Few things are as hopelessly saturated with the stink of fear and death as a colorful, smiling clown. As my four-year-old son put it after having clowns explained to him: "So clowns are supposed to be funny, but then they accidentally make you sad and afraid?"
The only thing we have to fear is fear itself... and evil clowns.
I have a childhood memory of a clown appearing at a friend's party, and most of my friends breaking down in tears at the very sight of the inhuman, grinning madman. I certainly didn't want to approach the thing; we all wondered why on earth the adults had let such a ghoulish creature in the building. [...] Perhaps we'll soon be seeing headlines claiming that "Millennials killed the clowning industry," along with all the other industries we supposedly drove into the grave. Like clowns, millennials aren't quite the mass-murderers we're made out to be, but on behalf of the teary, frightened children around the country, we'll happily take credit for this one.