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enough spotted the children. They were all locked down using metal chains, scared, forced to watch the clown perform. Needless to say, the men didn’t reply to the clown’s questions, most likely simply just because they didn’t know what to say.
“Oh, you’re both so boring! No screaming, no struggling, not even a single reaction..What kind of participants are you? Pathetic!”
The clown then grabbed the nearest knife he could find, “oh, well”, and started walking towards the fathers, “You’ll make better participants when you’re dead!”
They were about to run for the children when suddenly they heard loud voices:
“Freeze! Hands behind your back!”
It was police. They came.
Except, there was no police. Nor there were any children, parents or even a circus. There were no mysteries and adventures or a crazy killer clown. But there was a crazy man Krust Clowrance. In a dark, white padded cell every day he would scream and shout and re-tell the same story as always.