Clown virus

You wake up groggy, the harsh buzz of your alarm pulling you out of a dream you can’t quite remember. Your phone’s battery is low—of course—and the only light in the room comes from the TV you forgot to turn off last night. The screen glows faint blue, showing a flustered news anchor. Her voice trembles.

“G-good evening. The clown virus is spreading faster than expected… Authorities are overwhelmed! Please, p-please stay inside your homes.”

You squint at the screen. Is she serious? The “clown virus”? You chuckle to yourself. Gotta be some weird parody news channel, right? Maybe one of those Adult Swim bits. You roll your eyes, grab your blanket, and cocoon yourself back into bed. You’ll deal with the world after a few more hours of sleep.

---

You wake up again. The sun’s moved a little. Same buzz of the TV, but the vibe is way off. You blink the sleep out of your eyes and glance at the screen.

A clown—an actual clown—is sitting where the news anchor was. Big curly hair, blue and white face paint, too-tight blazer stretched over cartoonishly poofy sleeves. She’s giggling.

“Heya fellow clownies! We, erm, all kinda forgot how this ‘news’ thingy works...”

She smacks her lips and grins wide.

“...So we’re just gonna make-out in front of the camera ’n tell jokes. ’kay? Teehee~!”

You stare, frozen. No chyron. No panic scroll. Just pastel blue skies and whatever this is. You sit up slowly. You’re not dreaming. The air smells different. Too sweet. Like cotton candy and hairspray.