The Clown Gets Found

By Jeremy Michelson

Like usual, Hilario the psychic, morbidly obese clown finds himself in deep trouble. But this time it’s even deeper trouble than he imagined. Can he escape the lure of his dark past and save the soul of an innocent child before its too late?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeremy Michelson
• Release date: May 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311807243

Book preview

Jeremy Michelson

THE CLOWN

GETS FOUND

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Copyright

Copyright © 2016 by Jeremy Michelson

This book is licensed for your person enjoyment only. All Rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

Cover artwork: © Ryan Jorgensen | Dreamstime.com

Cover Design by Jeremy Michelson

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CHAPTER ONE

Hilario needed a cheeseburger.

A Boinkbo Burger restaurant sat no more than a hundred feet away.

So near.

Yet so far away.

The sign beckoned to him with cheery red and purple neon-outlined words. Bright, curving neon blinked on and off, animating a skinny clown shoving a giant Boinkbo Burger into his thick lipped mouth.

Hilario didn’t like the clown. An insult to the trade. But the burgers were excellent. Big enough for a big appetite like his. It only took a couple to fill up his five hundred pound frame. If he went to McDonald’s it would take a couple bags of their teeny little cheeseburgers to dent his appetite.

He didn’t like that McDonald’s clown, either.

From where he stood in the tall grass, he caught a tantalizing hint of flame grilled burger. His mouth watered. His tongue beat against the back of his teeth, begging him for a taste of what the nose was smelling. His white gloved fingers tingled with the thought of holding that warm, squishy, steamed bun. His lips burned with the idea of wrapping themselves around those soft buns. Visions flitted though his mind–biting down through layers of lettuce and thick, yellow cheese. Dripping, tongue tingling tangy Special Sauce. And finally to the juicy, tender burger patty at the center of it all.

Underneath his orange and white striped suit his stomach rumbled like a semi truck roaring over concrete.

Or maybe that was a semi truck.

It was hard to tell. They seemed to be passing in front of him every couple of seconds.

Which was why exactly why two Boinkbo Burgers weren’t already on their way to his rumbling stomach.

Eight lanes of concrete superhighway separated Hilario and the cheery and enticing Boinkbo Burger. Eight lanes, where Kenworths and Peterbilts and Freightliners blasted by in both directions. Between the hulking tractor trailers ran every make and model of sedan and pickup truck.

The yellow-orange street lights over the highway gave him glimpses of faces–bored, tired, angry. Bodies hunched over steering wheels. Or reclined back, one or two fingers on the wheel. Even worse, a driver slurping from an extra large Boinkbo Burger soda.

Hilario would have ran his hands down his face in frustration, but that would have smeared his make up. The white greasepaint on his face, along with the big, red, happy mouth and exaggerated eye makeup he had painstakingly applied hours ago. Applied thick and complete. Not a square millimeter of bare skin was left exposed.

The paint was as much armor as it was camouflage. Without it he would be naked in more than one way.

None of which was going to get him across the damned highway.

For once, traffic moved at the posted speed limit of seventy miles per hour. Two solid walls of rolling steel and glass. Zillions of rubber treads hummed on worn concrete like the world’s angriest bee hive.

How he had gotten a whiff of the Boinkbo Burger through the thick smells of diesel and car exhaust? Probably imagined it, that’s how.

He looked down at his giant, floppy red shoes. Too late to wish for his street shoes. Still in the