Fanboy And Chum Chum: Attack Of The Clowns
Night Of The Living Clowns
The moon shone brightly above. Wispy clouds drifted passed. It was dark; too dark for a night like this; a full moon and stars in abundance. The trees were scraggly, leafless. In the distance a wolf's howl was heard, almost unnatural. Bats squeaked, flying passed the trees as an owl hooted and turned its head. A crow cawed from somewhere and a light greenish mist spread across the barren ground. Where was he? The leaves crunched under his feet. What was he walking towards? The leaves stopped and suddenly the land was free of any inhabitant. Strange… he wasn't walking anymore, but he could see everything that was going on. It was like he was still moving.
The mist cleared ever so slightly; just enough to reveal the shapes of headstones of all sorts. Headstones? Oh this wasn't good. In the distance blew the remains of some tattered tent. A big top? Wait a minute. Big top, circus, clowns! He felt his throat closing off. He was unable to breathe. Oh why couldn't he turn and flee? The howl sounded again and in the distance a bell tolled dark and low. Wicked laughter was heard over the wind that was picking up. What on Earth was going on? Then the ground began to move. His eyes widened. He couldn't breathe! This wasn't happening. It couldn't be! A hand shot through the ground grabbing his foot, rotting and eerie. Oh what fresh Hades was this? He screamed and pulled away.
Moaning and groaning was heard. No, this wasn't happening. No, no, no! The figures appeared and he tried to scream. No sound came out! Clowns! They were rotting zombie clowns! Oh gods get him out of here! He couldn't run, he couldn't scream he couldn't cast a spell, he couldn't do anything! He screamed in terror. They were coming towards him! Get away, he desperately wanted to shriek. Then all at once he was overlooking Galaxy Hills, cowering behind a rock. No… they were attacking the town! No one could escape. People were dropping like flies, becoming one of them! Clowns were everywhere! Oh gods make the clowns go away!
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He became aware he was screaming, screaming, screaming. Where was he? What had grabbed him? "Nein, leave me alone! Let me go!" Sigmund screamed. Clowns. It had to be!
"Sigmund, Sigmund!" a voice called to him loudly. He recognized that voice from the first syllable. That definitely wasn't a clown. His father…
His eyes opened in a panic. He realized he was in a cold sweat breathing faster than could be good for him. Kyle, Mr. Mufflin, and the rest of the class were looking down at him in concern. Janitor Poopatine was looking down on him while Francine held his head up. Kyle was anxiously watching. "F-fazher; v-vhat h-happened?" Sigmund stammered in a hoarse whisper.
"Father!" the class exclaimed in shock.
"Um, figuratively!" Kyle exclaimed quickly.
They blinked at Kyle blankly, then Michael answered, "We don't know."
"You just started convulsing and screaming!" Duke exclaimed.
"We couldn't wake you, so I called in Poopatine," Mufflin stated, noting the secrecy the boys were struggling to keep.
"We were about to deliver you to the doctor when you woke up," Kyle added.
Sigmund, now blushing in embarrassment, quickly waved his hand, saying, "Oh please, it vas nussink. Just ein spasm."
"Maybe so, but I'm still bringing you home," Poopatine declared. "Hank, I suppose you have the test notes?"
"Right here," Mufflin offered, handing them over.
"Excellent. Up you go boy," Poopatine said. Francine and Kyle helped Sigmund stand. He wavered unsteadily and nearly fell, but Poopatine held him up. "Come on son, let's go," Poopatine encouraged, putting the boy on Brenda.
"What am I to do?" Kyle questioned.
"I'll come and pick you up after school," Poopatine answered.
"Humph, very well," Kyle said, annoyed Sigmund was getting off school early. Seeing the confused looks of the other classmates, Kyle said, "Um, you see, it's like this… Uh, we're trying to get in character for a play?"
"Kyle, why are you hiding it? Embrace it!" Chum Chum encouraged.
Kyle paled and gasped. Oh no, they were going to spill! "Sigmund and Janitor Poopatine are really Kyle's big brother and father!" Fanboy exclaimed.
"No!" Kyle cried.
"No way!" the class exclaimed. Kyle cried out in alarm as he was swarmed with questions from everyone except Nancy, who looked at him in shock? Well, at least it would be one less classmate probing him for information that he himself didn't know.
"Back to your desks!" Mufflin ordered. The class groaned but obeyed. Kyle sighed in relief.
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"What did you dream of Sigmund?" Poopatine questioned, sitting on Brenda and watching his eldest read on the couch.
"It vas nussink," Sigmund answered, seemingly engrossed in a book.
"That wasn't nothing," Poopatine argued.
"Do you not have Kyle to pick up?" Sigmund demanded, getting testy.
"I will drag an answer from you one way or another. Don't make this difficult," Poopatine growled in warning.
Sigmund frowned, challenging him, but soon enough he backed down. It was impossible to win a battle of wills with this Janitor. "Clowns," he answered simply.
"Clowns?" Poopatine incredulously asked.
"I am afraid uf clowns, all right! I am terrified!" Sigmund shot angrily. "Can ve change ze subject now?" Poopatine twitched. Clowns? Of all the things to be scared of, clowns?
"See, that wasn't so hard. I'm going to get Kyle," Poopatine finally said, opting not to comment on the fear. He knew his own biases would get out if he did, and that wouldn't be helpful to the sorcerer.
"See if I care," Sigmund answered, waving him off. Poopatine shook his head. He should probably do something about the cocky little boy, but he couldn't be bothered. He harrumphed and walked away.
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It was pouring. Rain was pelting against the windows and walls. Thunder echoed through the night, lightning flashing every few seconds and lighting up the home. Poopatine lay in bed sleeping. All at once a particularly loud clap of thunder boomed through the night, shaking the house, and Poopatine was jerked awake by a bloodcurdling scream! He gasped and shot up. "What on Earth?" he questioned, sharply looking over. That was one of the boys! Before he could fling off the covers and race to see what was wrong, however, his bedroom door burst open and Sigmund raced in like a flash, diving into the bed next to him! "Sigmund!" Poopatine exclaimed, shocked.
"Make zem leave!" Sigmund screamed, burrowing under the blankets and burying his head beneath them and against the janitor.
"Make what leave?" Poopatine demanded, too flustered to react.
"Ze nightmares und ze flesh eating zombie clowns!" Sigmund shrieked at him, panicked.
"What on earth is happening?" Kyle's voice called. The door was thrown open again and Kyle asked, "Papa, what's with Sigmund!"
"A nightmare," Poopatine simply answered.
"It vasn't! It-it vas-vas too real," Sigmund gasped out. "I-I can still smell zem."
"Smell what?" Kyle demanded.
"Ze undead clowns," Sigmund replied.
"Undead what now's? Unbelievable. You may well be the first person ever to have a nightmare after watching a documentary. There are no undead clowns here," Kyle stated in annoyance.
"Zere are!" Sigmund insisted. "Maybe not here, but zey are coming."
"Oh bother. I'm going back to bed!" Kyle shot, annoyed. "Goodnight and good riddance."
"You vill be zorry Kyle!" Sigmund called after him. Kyle laughed scornfully.
Sigmund looked up at Janitor Poopatine, just remembering where he was. Poopatine looked unimpressed and annoyed. "Are you going to go back to bed now?"
Sigmund hesitated then replied, "Nein?"
Poopatine sighed in annoyance and lay back down. Sigmund blinked. Well, it wasn't an invitation, but his father hadn't banned him either. Sigmund squirmed under the covers again next to his dad. Feeling safe and comforted once more, he finally drifted off again.
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Poopatine heard whimpering in his sleep. Great. Another nightmare. Third in a row. Groggily he glared at whatever was shivering against him. Oh yes, Sigmund. Poopatine scowled. "Oh not this again," he complained. "Sigmund!" he shot, shaking the boy.
Sigmund screamed, shooting up with a gasp and looking around in a panic. His eyes fell on Poopatine and he looked away and down. He knew full well the janitor was getting impatient very quickly. "Zorry," he muttered.
Poopatine forced himself to take a deep breath, knowing he sounded too agitated. "Never mind. What was it this time?"
"Nussink," Sigmund answered. Great, Poopatine realized, the boy was shutting down because he was worried he'd get upset.
"Sigmund," Poopatine warned.
"It vas ze same," Sigmund answered, looking at Poopatine. "Except zis time zey vere right outside our home." Just then they heard a scratching at the window. Sigmund clung to him desperately with a death grip.
"It's just your imagination," Poopatine assured. Sigmund shook his head, shaking. "Alright, I'll check outside and see if there are any zombie clowns. Will that make you feel better?" he questioned.
"Yes," Sigmund replied, nodding and releasing the man. Poopatine sighed and got up, going to the window and grumbling. He pulled open the curtain and scanned the ground. Clear. He turned around and said, "There's nothing outside, son."
Just then lightning flashed and Poopatine saw Sigmund go almost literally white. The boy opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Alarmed, Poopatine swiftly spun around. Nothing was there. Okay, now he was concerned. Was the sorcerer hallucinating? He turned back curiously. Before he could ask, though, Sigmund hollowly said, "It vas looking through ze vindow."
"Sigmund, nothing was there," Poopatine gently said, eyes becoming worried. This wasn't a good sign.
Just then there was scratching again, and a laugh was heard from outdoors. Poopatine spun around, but this time he saw hands dropping from the ledge. Wait. Hands! He gasped and darted to the window, throwing it open and looking out. A garbage can clattered and sharply he looked over. In the distance he saw a figure limp into an alley moaning. A figure that wasn't quite all flesh. He paled, mouth dropping. Alarmed he gasped and slammed the window, locking it and shutting the curtains. Perhaps that boy wasn't crazy after all. Little did he know, just below the window sill, almost about to reach up and grab him, had sat an eerie painted figure grinning maniacally.
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"Fazher, Kyle's house iz not enchanted. Zere iz no protection from zem breaking in," Sigmund tightly declared. Poopatine grabbed a wand from the bedside table. Kyle had them everywhere. Of course he had his favorite and all others were just backup, but they were everywhere.
Poopatine waved it around wordlessly, then put it down assuring, "Now it is."
"Vat if it's too late?" Sigmund questioned. Just then they heard a scream and gasped, whirling. "Zat vas Kyle!" Sigmund cried.
"Kyle!" Poopatine shouted, racing to the door. He almost had reached it when it was thrown open and Kyle sprang into his arms, knocking him back.
"Daddy!" Kyle cried.
"What!" Poopatine demanded, quickly shutting the door.
"S-s-something w-was at my-my window. I-I didn't hear it then it suddenly screamed in pain and I woke up. It-it was almost inside, reaching for me, and I zapped it out the window! It-it was-was a-a clown," Kyle stammered, looking at Sigmund in shock. The sorcerer hadn't been crazy!
"Ze protection spell vorked just in time zen," Sigmund said.
"W-what?" Kyle asked. Quickly they filled him in. By the time they were done, Kyle and Sigmund were both curled up against the janitor clinging to him for dear life and looking around.
"Perhaps it was nothing. Maybe tomorrow they'll be gone and things will be fine. We can find a way to deal with them later," Poopaine assured.
"Vhat if it vas somesing zough?" Sigmund asked.
"I don't know," Poopatine gravely admitted. The two swallowed and burrowed under the covers. Poopatine looked uncertainly at the window as thunder clapped.
