Dex 3 Con 3
Per 2 Wil 3
Artistic Talent (Make Balloon Animals) 2 (2)
Addiction (Alcohol) (-4)
Addiction (Smoking) (-2)
Clown 1 (-1)
Cowardly 1 (-1)
Hard to Kill 2 (2)
Status 1 (1)
Driving (Van) 2
Guns (Handgun) 2
Guns (Shotgun) 1
Hand Weapon (Baton) 2
Play Instrument (Banjo) 1
Sleight of Hand 3
Thrown (Sphere: Party Balloons) 3
Alcholol (plenty), Balloon animals
filled with alcohol, Bag of fireworks,
Cigars, Handgun, Lighter, Seltzer bottle
filled with alcohol
Using the seltzer bottle, ballon animals, alcohol,
fireworks and lighter, the Party Clown creates mayhem and inflicts
damage. It's not the safest way to do so, but what's to be expected
from this guy?
Yes, I'm drunk. You got a problem with that?
I didn't think so.
And I'm not just dressed like a clown -- I am a clown.
I was the best goddamn clown in all of Spokane and its surrounding
counties. Every parent wanted to have Uncle Charlie and his trained
ferret Sparky at their kid's parties and bar mitzvahs. I was more
than an entertainer, I was a status symbol.
I kid you not -- there was a motherfriggin' waiting
list a year long for my services. I couldn't have done it without
Sparky though, smart as a whip and gentle as I don't know what. He
and I shared a kind of bond, that damn animal understood me a whole
hell of a lot more than that bloodsucker ex-wife of mine.
Why is my clown suit covered with blood you ask? Why
do I still dress this way, years after the collapse of civilization,
as we knew it?
DON'T FRIGGIN' RUSH ME, AWRIGHT? Buy me another drink
and I'll get to it.
It was a swank affair at some country club. A rich
kid's party with catered food, a trampoline and pony rides. Sparky
and I had a whole bunch of new material to try out and, if I do say
so myself, we had them eating out of our hands.
Suddenly all this commotion starts and I see all these
weirdoes crashing the party. They're knocking over the tables and
grabbing people. We didn't know about the zombies then. We didn't
know what the frig was going on. Course, the first sight of blood and
people start to panic, grabbing their kids and rushing for their cars.
Then, one of the kids got knocked down and he's in the
path of one those things and he's too afraid to move. His eyes meet
mine and he starts yellin' "Uncle Charlie! Help me!"
But I didn't. I couldn't move. And what could I have
done? You can't fight off monsters with balloon animals and a joy
buzzer! I couldn't look away either, I just stared like a friggin'
idiot as the zombie lurched closer and closer to the crying kid.
Sparky, bless his heart, had other ideas. With a brave
little squeal, he leapt onto the zombie's face and started biting. I
screamed at the ferret to get out of there but it was too late.
All it took as one bite and my little buddy was
history. But that was all the kid needed to get away. I remember that
as he ran past me he gave me this accusing look. Never forgot that.
Worse, he doubled back and kicked me in the shins and
said, "You suck!"
Never forgot that either.
After I got away from the carnage, I started hitting
the bottle. No matter how much I drink, whenever I close my eyes I
can still see that damn zombie with my ferret's tail sticking out of
then I've dedicated myself to protecting
children from those flesh-eating bastards. I know that Sparky is up
there in heaven watching me and I can only hope that someday I can
redeem myself in his eyes. Until then I wear the same clown suit and
red nose I wore that terrible day.
You see? It all makes sense . . . in a sad, horrible way.
Hey! Where are you going?
"Uncle Charlie don't play that!"
Artwork by: George Vasilakos
Flavor Text by: Albert Bruno III