If you’re active on social media or essentially don’t live under a rock, you’ve probably caught wind of the “creepy clown” epidemic that’s currently sweeping across North America. I found out quite recently that there is a pretty big difference between chuckling at other people’s misfortunes on Twitter and experiencing this chaos for yourself.
Shopping on Whyte is one of my favourite pastimes, so I often find myself lugging bags up and down the sidewalks of the iconic avenue. Recently, I was doing just this, enjoying a nice September afternoon. As I strolled along, my relaxation came to a halt when I heard a violent cackle echo through the alley just behind me.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
The adrenaline kicked in and my heart started racing. “This is payback for laughing at all those people on Twitter,” I thought to myself as I slowly began to accept the fact that I was probably about to die. Maybe I was cool with that, because then I wouldn’t have to worry about my student loans.
I looked over my shoulder to find a six-foot-tall zombie-esque clown coming towards me, gathering speed as he graduated from jog to demonic lope. This dude wasn’t in some kind of discount halloween store costume — he ran straight for me clad in a movie-quality outfit paired with an equally impressive makeup job, including blood that dripped from his incredibly realistic rotting teeth.
The sound that came out of me as I tore into a sprint to escape this childhood nightmare could only be described as the most frightened squeal known to mankind. No amount of horror movies or haunted houses could have prepared me for what it felt like to be so absolutely terrified and thrown into a what was truly a real-life nightmare. With every few strides I would glance over my shoulder, only to find him gaining on me. I realized in that moment that maybe the cardio I’d been skipping would’ve come in handy.
Right when I started to think that maybe it was time to drop my bags (that was the only reason I was slow, definitely nothing to do with that cardio I skipped), the entire ordeal was over. I have no idea where he disappeared to, maybe into another alley to plot his next scare, or maybe to climb right back into whatever hell he appeared out of.
The only thing I’m sure of is this: the proverbial “creepy clowns” have arrived in the river city — and they mean business.
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