Clowns. I'm afraid of the word. I never want to hear the word. On Halloween I don't even come out of the house in fear of seeing Him--the Clown. Or any clown.
I will start by telling you that I used to love the circus growing up. I went to every circus and parade when I was a kid. You could always find me celebrating and laughing with my friends. We couldn't help but notice there was one clown that would always be at every parade. He would do tricks like walking on stilts or juggling. We knew it was always the same clown because he had these evil deep blood red eyes and weird teeth. He wasn't like the others. They were goofy and old. He was always young---maybe in his 20s. I don't know. He could do anything and do it better than all of the rest and he always smiled at us, picking us out in the crowd.
As I grew older, I stopped going to the circus because I started to love football and sports then I went college, got a job...you know the rest. I just grew out of it…
Here is a creepypasta reading about a couple of guys who steal some Crystal Pepsi and a trinket from one of their dad's shed. There is punishment in store--and it isn't the cops. This should be a reminder to not steal from strangers or from your own parents.