Hour 8: Public Service Announcement (By Heather Lang)

Don’t let him fool you.
The clown’s oversized lips are not smiles n’ face paint.
His mouth is swollen; he’s licked his lips chapped and then raw.
He craves the meat of your children on the night after the year’s biggest sugar binge.
He wants to tie up the intestines of your sons & daughters, knot them up like pretty-in-pink, red, and purple balloon animals.
On Halloween Eve, the clown dreamt of your youngest brimming with M&Ms and Snickers Bars, your first born full of Swedish Fish and Skittles, and your middle child stuffed with Reece’s Pieces and Pixie Sticks.
Your kin has become the colorful pinatas the clown’s own father would never let him have.
Yes, now this grinning clown dreams of goblin girls and Batman boys, of cowboy kids and Harley Quinn teens.
The house with the toothbrushes will be the clown’s last stop.
If he smells minty fresh, you’re safe.

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