@breakfastgolem
waiting for laughter that will never be. it sheds a clown tear. now it shivers. it honks its horn and looks up at you in anger with a ugly, rotted, misshapen grimace. it pulls out a toy gun and shoots it at you- all you see is a blurry static of rainbow (presumably) confetti.

you wake up. you have clown sh oes on. a clown hat next to your bed on the nightstand. you pick up your cellphone and go to unlock it- only to have it shock you. you turn on the tv- only have to have clown shows and clown news on every channel. you run outside in your squeeky clown shoes and everyone is driving around in clown cars and wearing clown outfits from their Dr Seus-like houses.

In a panic- you turn around to go back inside, only to see a oversized boot with a tiny door open. Afraid for your life- you run down the steet till you find a random man reciting poetry to passing clowns. You run over to him, relieved to find 'a person' in this frightful place.

you try to talk to him but all that comes out is laughter and hiccups. you reach into your pockets to find something to use to communicate with him with. You pull out a horn- hesitate for a minute, and try to communicate using morse code, but only know S.O.S.

Your laughter and honking is perceived as just regular clown laughter and the man just chuckles and continues reciting poetry.

You then decide to try to write it out to him with your finger.

You tap him on the shoulder- and point to your hand. But as you go to write letters down- you reflexively reach into your sleeve and pull out a chain of colourful napkins. After pulling the chain completely out- you stomp in a series of squeeks out of frustration.

This is still perceived as a series of clown gags.

Distraught and dismayed- you stand there in sad-clown face as the man continues on his business reciting poetry.