The bells of the little chapel in Las Vegas have just finished chiming midnight when a gust of wind howls down the empty streets casting discarded newspapers down the boulevard like tumble weeds in the Nevada desert.  The wind is unusually cold with a slight taste of cordite bitter to the tounge and stings the eyes of the hobos and street bums that suddenly feel the need to take shelter against the evil feeling wind.

CLUNK…

Unnoticed a manhole cover in the middle of the street is lifted open from the underside and small tendrils of purple smoke start to waft from the sewer, two pairs of small hands can be seen clinching onto the rim of the grate and out of the purple murk appear two small heads.  The heads which obviously belong to midgets scan slowly around and upon seeing that there is no danger drag there small bodies out of the now dense purple fog.

CRASH… SMASH

A hobo, braver than the rest looks at his wine bottle and drops it to the floor not believing what he is seeing for now out of the gloom seeming to levitate from the underbelly of the city begins to rise what can only be described as a gruesome mockery of a clown.  Dank greasy purple wig with hideously cracked face paint and a sardonic contorted painted grin.

“Poot, Ssscoot” sighs the clown in the direction of the midgets his voice sounding like a gas pipe that has been left on  “Go forthhh tell them we have returned”

The midgets scamper off in different directions whilst the clown rolls his head impossibly far back and lets out a beastly mournful cry.  Pigeons from the rooftops fly up and away from the unholy din, a few shouts to be quiet come from further in the city.  The clown just smiles looks toward the hobo in his piss drenched trousers takes out an oversized Magnum and calmly blows off the top of his head.

Before dissappearing down an alley he walks over to the decapitated bum and stuffs a gaudily decorated business card down his neck it simply reads:

“Tell them the circus has come to town…”

The clown is back… the real clown.

Geraldine wraps her coat tighter around her.

What's wrong with the wind already? It's oddly bitter.  she mutters. If it wasn't for her old friend that had arrived in the city there was no way to get out a night like this. It wasn't the unusual cold, it was that the whole atmosphere of this ominous night. Geraldine frowns and starts to walk faster. She feels relief when she opens the bar's door and a hot wave of smoke and alcohol vapours strikes her in the face.   


Geraldine takes her sip from her drink and pauses for a moment. She looks the happy,drunk company around her. She lights another cigarette and laughs at the comment someone whispered in her ear without actually paying attention. She casts a casual look out of the window and she has the impression that among the hobos she saw two midgets.

I always thought that absinthe gave you illusions about green fairies, not midgets! Frank, this drink is more impure than Jessica. And that says a lot!

The loud laughter and the glasses clinking cover the sound of an oversized Magnum going off.

"If those two little bastards screw this up again ill sew there sorry arses together and feed them until they pop!"

The clown mutters and stumbles his way down the alley his oversized shoes SLAP SLAPPING against the hard stone footway.  He stops for a second pulls out a cigar from up his oversized sleeve and lights it from a match scraped against a nearby wall.  The light from the match and his first pull of the cigar casts ominous shadows across his painted face.  Taking in a deep breath of smoke he tosses the match into the air which sizzles out when it lands in a nearby puddle.

The clown pulls out a dirty notepad thumbs a few pages, squints, rubs his eyes and continues down the alley until it opens up onto another main boulavard.

"Thisss must be the place." he mumbles to himself.  Across the road is a bar light streaming out of the windows, smoke and laughter pouring out of the doors.

"Bah, happy bastards aren't they.." He pulls what seems to resemble a dog whistle out of his top pocket blows it inaudibly several times and slinks back into the shadows watching the door of the bar closely.

After a matter of minutes the patter of tiny feet can be heard approacing.  The two midgets the clown was seen with before come scampering around the corner using both their arms and legs to propel themsleves forwards, they come to a sudden halt just before hurtling into the clown.

"What did I tell you to ssscmucks? I'd find the place firsst? eh? eh?. There over there it iss! That's where she said she'd be Now get in there and see what you can find."

The clown gesticulates with his cigar blowing a smoke ring in the direction of the bar before folding himself back into the shadows of the alley.  The two midgets set off with their peculiar gait one just dodging the clowsn left kick, heading toward the bar.

Standing around the corner, bocamper can't help but hear all the noise coming from the middle of the next street.  He hears a CLUNK, a CRASH, a SMASH, the blast from a gun, and finally the SLAP of oversized shoes...

"Funny...", bocamper thinks to himself, "...given present company, I would have expected to hear a THUD!"