Dropping my attention to the front of the clown’s pants, all the breath drained from my lungs as I imagined how large it had to be to create that kind of bulge. It seemed to thicken as he realized I was staring at it. With one hand on my horn, his other lifted the hem of his white shirt. The first thing I noticed was that his fingernails were painted black, and the edges were chipped where he’d bitten them. The second was that he had a tattoo of a red balloon right below his navel. Its string disappeared beneath the waistline of his pants. I started to laugh, but it turned to a gasp when he
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