Chicken (Bawk, Bawk, Bawk!)

Hey, you! You walk around all day like you are a normal, stable person and maybe even own a car and a blazer, but guess what? You are hiding some totally lame secret fear. And if you’re not careful, it might crawl out from underneath your bed and eat you. Think about that while you drive around in your blazer, Mr./Mrs. “Well-Adjusted”!

Hmm, I’m not really sure where I was going with that. My introduction kind of ran away with me. But this post is about Things That Scare You! Or, you know, Things That Scare Me, because you’re not writing this post (but you can totally write 18 comments about how you sleep with a nightlight and a teddy bear and a knife because you’re afraid of the Boogeyman, if you’re so inclined).

I am scared of barking, snarling dogs. I love dogs, but I have an atypically high number of friends with horrible facial scars from doggies biting them (okay, only 2 scarface friends, but still). You can’t come back from that shit.

I am also afraid of people who follow me, because as gorgeous as I am, I am afraid they’re going to pull something terrible out of their pants and try to put it inside me, such as a knife (see what I did there?).

I am afraid of clowns. When I was little, I was at a carnival thing inside a big circus tent, and we were sitting high up in the back. I was grooving on all the trapeze artists and the big fat elephants, and then I turned around the way you always do when you can feel someone looking at you, and who was there? A clown. A tall, scary, unsmiling clown, staring me dead in the eyes. You can’t come back from that shit either.

This post is pretty boring. I am boring myself just writing it. But I haven’t posted anything in a few days and I know my sexual little readers will just DIE without some new material. So, here you go. Hopefully something interesting will flit into my brain and then I can entertain you all instead of talking about my bad childhood clown experiences.

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