the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention, looking for the fattie who hurt the gang trying to find him in this s***ty sewer
but i shake the hairspray can and ignite the lighter blasting a bright light and allowing me to see and make the sewer hot for a split second, then i see a balloon floating inches from my face and when it pops a demented clown of sorts appears and in front of me
i overheard the losers say he comes every 30 years and he feeds, but not on food, but people and their fear
luckily they aren’t real, nothing is but me, just me
the doctors of derry just say that im something called ‘s o l p s i s t i c’
but how can they tell me what i am when im

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