Murdering, slaughtering bloodthirsty, shitty, psychotic nightmare hell-clowns!
I was running. Minding my own business.
I thought I was running as fast as I could, but it was 70 degrees, (too hot more me, people).
3:58 at the half-mile mark, but 9:07 for the mile?
It was the clowns.
But, Botendaddy! Kids love clowns…right?
NO THEY DON’T! BECAUSE KILLA’ KLOWNZ KILL EVERYONE THEY MEET!
I saw them lurking in the bushes, they were athletic evil running klowns! The worst kind. They were pacing behind me.
When I slown’ down they slown’ down.
When I sped up, they sped up.
One of them had a chain saw, one of them had a huge wooden mallet and the other a machete. Pronounced Mah-Tchett-eee.
One of them let out a shriekish laugh!
“Boten-daddy…” One of them cried out in a sing song falling falsetto voice.
“Only a 9:07 first mi-le, fading fading we are, fatty.”
After running silently all the way to the lonely old train tunnel another one of them called out: “Boten-daddy 19:50 two mile run, not too tas-ty!”
My third mile was equally atrocious. I tried to run faster, but my legs had turned to jello and I was cramping up.
“32:56, very sad! Very wim-py, too hot for ya’ today?”
Only fear kept me going. The clowns were all around me. Then they began to do an Indian run around me. One would wave the blood-soaked mallet, the next one would wave the Mach-et-ee and the third the chain saw. The four mile mark was equally horrible, over an 11 minute per mile pace. I tried to speed up, then I heard the chain saw!
I ran as fast as my legs could carry me!
I could hear them coming closer.
“Die now Botendaddy!”
“Oh, yes, come to the Killa Klownz Possee or Running Doom!”
I barely made it to my car on time.
I looked in my rear view mirror only to see in my back seat!
Evil Killa Klown, Courtesy of ThePuddinManCan
Peace be the Botendaddy