In the beginning was a clown, his name was Frankinclown. He was a
cereal killer; every morning he would pull out a box of Corn Flakes,
and stab them with his spoon.
He was also sexy; too sexy for his shirt (or the circus), so he decided too join a stripper club so he could take it off.
Needless
to say, that job didn't last long. He had pretended to be a woman, but
that is hard to pull of when you're stripping. They threw him out when
they found out that his rather large cleavage had just been a couple of
balloons.
Dejected, he started trudging back to the circus.
On
his way, he saw a disco bar. He decided that dancing might be fun, he
was good at that, and maybe he'd be able to take his shirt off; show
that clowns could be sexy! 'Cause he was sexy, so sexy that it hurt!
On
the dance floor he broke it down; showed them what -real- dancing was.
It all went so well! They cheered him on! Then he tried to take his
unsexy shirt off, and they threw him out.
'You don't know what you're missing out on!' he screamed as he crashed balloons first onto the pavement.
'Yeah we do, that's why we threw you out,' snickered one of the bouncers.
Frankinclown
stood, glaring at them. He then did the only thing he knew how; he
squirted water in their eyes with his water flower, then took of down
the street in a sprint before they could introduce his face to the
sidewalk.
After sprinting for a few minutes, he sighted what
appeared to be a rock concert. A thought hit him: Rock concerts mean
crowd surfing, crowd surfing mean hands all over his sexy body! And
maybe he could get his shirt of well he was at it...
So he bought a ticket, and went in. Luckily for him, the show had only just started, so he'd have plenty of time to be sexy.
Charging to the front, he started some serious moshing.
All went well.
Suddenly,
he saw his moment, with a mighty heave of his well trained clown body,
he hoisted himself up on someone's shoulders, and away he went.
It was working! He was doing it, people where reaching up to touch him; they actually wanted to touch his sexy body!
For
three minutes and twenty six glorious seconds he surfed. And then, for
the barest of seconds, he felt no hands, then he felt the hard floor.
Scrambling
to his feet, he rushed to the front. This was the life! Fellow sexy
people who appreciated him! Never again would he be unsexy, never agi–
***
Three
days later, back at the circus, they started to wonder where
Frankinclown had got to. Not that they were missing him, but someone
had to clean the crap out of the elephants cage.
So they called the police, and reported him missing.
Hours
later, they got a phone call from the police, informing them that
they'd found Frankinclown, he was dead. They had just sent him of to
the morgue for a post-mortem; to find out the cause of death.
There
was much wailing and beating of balloons at the circus, because now
they'd all have to draw straws to see who'd have to clean the crap out
of the elephants cage.
The next morning, the police rang up
again, this time to inform them of the cause of death. 'It seems he
died of rapid over-sexyifacation; caused by the sudden influx of
sexyness. It had been too much sexyness too fast for his un-sexy body
to cope with.'
'Thank you,' said Joe Bloe as he hung up. Now he'd have to find someone else to clean the elephant cages.
The
entire circus gathered in the main rink for the event; straws were
drawn, people sighed with relief as they saw they had a long straw.
In the end, the new girl who'd joined, young Irish lass by the name of Haly O'tosis, ended up with the short straw.
Short Stories 
