Every year at Morphicon we have a writing competition where the participants try to write the worst story possible. This year was no different. While we wait for the contestants to type up and submit their entries for this year, we proudly(?) present last year's winner.

Please don't un-watch us.

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Death Wore a Squirt-Flower
by  Anima


Crow put on his floppy shoes, lacing them sloppily just like his big brother George had shown him how to do three years ago in August. He browsed his nose-closet for some time, tapping one comically exaggerated foot, before picking his nose.
Outside the sun was shining, and the smells of popcorn and cotton candy rolled between the midway booths like rivers of fantastical delight. Crow squeaked as he walked thanks to his enormous shoes, kicking up dust on his way to work. Suddenly, he fell, tripped by a girl's leg!
“Crow, you are a terrible clown. Look how you fell! It wasn't funny at all.”
Crow pulled himself up out of the dust, and stared at Georgina, the poodle trainer. “Georgina! That was so mean!”
“No, what's mean is having a kid with a face like yours and not phoning Jesus to order a replacement!” Georgina made herself laugh with her own mean joke, and her poodles Jasper and Jules laughed with her in their own barky way. With that, she walked away in her gold glittery platforms.
Crow was still dusting himself off when he arrived at the main tent, where the Ringmaster was waiting.
“You're late Crow! Grab that paint over there and get to the Scrambler. Those no-good kids wrote all over the insides of those things, and graffiti makes the church-women cry. Crying's bad for business at a carnival! HOP TO IT!”
Crow was very upset, but he took the paint anyways and walked off. The Ringmaster didn't care that Georgina had made him late. The Ringmaster didn't care about anything but money!
The Scrambler ride was definitely in need of some paint. It was strange seeing it in the morning before opening, with no lights on, not moving. It was a little creepy.
“I've got a bad feeling about this.” But Crow knew it was his job.
“How do kids learn these words so young?” Crow said to himself as he painted over words that had gotten him spanked with a rubber chicken as a child-clown. He finished the first Scrambler car and ducked into the second. He raised his brush to paint over the next crudely scrawled message, but paused when the words registered.
“Crow...you are a good clown.” He mumbled along as his eyes followed the letters scratched into the red paint. “The others don't like you.” Crow frowned, wrinkling his painted-on clown smile. “Did the kids write this too?”
He painted over these strange, personal messages and moved on to the third Scrambler car. There was another one calling him by name! “Crow...they don't deserve you.” And below that message was another, half hidden by the cushion on the seat. Crow pressed the cushion down to uncover the entire message. “They need to die, Crow.”
He dropped his paintbrush, fingers having gone numb inside his white clown gloves. “D, d, die?”
His eyes dropped from the message to the fallen paintbrush. The messy stripe of paint it left on the floor and his pants seemed to contain words too! Kill and laugh.
“What's the matter Crow?”
The new voice made Crow jump, hitting his head on the roof of the Scrambler car. While he winced and rubbed his head through his bald clown-scalp, he turned to see Daisy frowning prettily at him.
“Daisy! I, I just saw a nasty word. That's all.”
She stepped closer, and helped rub his head. “I'm sorry I startled you. Are you going to be okay? You look like you've seen a ghost!”
Crow managed to smile at Daisy, who was the prettiest of their six bearded ladies. He knew her beard was fake, and sometimes she wore a mustache instead just to make him laugh.
“No, I'm fine. How are you today? Did you, uh,” his eyes wandered for something to fill in the gap, “need the red paint?”
“No, no paint, but could you help me carry my bags to the bus stop after the show tonight?”
Crow's jaw dropped. “Are you leaving Daisy?”
Daisy nodded. “The Ringmaster fired me, because I wouldn't wear the new outfits he got for the bearded ladies. They're so skimpy! There's more icing on old Fergy's awful strudel than there is clothing on the ladies now!”
Crow kicked the bucket of paint, splattering the wet red stuff all over the diamond plating of the Scrambler. “NO! I won't let him fire you, Daisy!”
Daisy smiled and tried to lay a hand on Crow's shoulder, but he was already moving away towards the main tent. Georgina appeared from between two booths, smoking a nasty cigarette.
“Where do you think you're going, you fool?” Georgina smirked at Crow, tapping ash onto the ground, which her poodles snorted with enthusiasm.
The words from the Scrambler cars seemed to get bigger and louder in Crow's head, until they drowned out whatever Georgina was saying. Crow whipped his head back and forth, and saw a can of butter for the popcorn melting on the stove. He reached across the counter and grabbed the can, throwing it in Georgina's wrinkled face!
Daisy behind him screamed, but it was drowned out by Georgina's shriek of anguish! Her dogs barked and barked as she stumbled blindly, and sprawled across the counter of the popcorn stand. Crow snatched up his clown-horn from his belt, tore off the rubber bulb, shoved one end into Georgina's screaming mouth, and used it as a funnel to pour popcorn seeds into her mouth! Daisy tried to stop him, but Crow was a big strapping clown and shook her off.
The next step was obvious. He ran and got Geraldo, their blind fire breather, and told him that Georgina was covered in ants and they needed to be burned off. Geraldo was always happy to help Crow, because Crow brought him his meals every day. Geraldo stepped up to the popcorn-seed-stuffed woman and breathed tongue after tongue of flame over her body! Crow dragged Daisy away before the popping got very loud, and hurried with her to the main tent.
“Crow, what have you done?! You probably killed her! No one liked her, but she was a human being!”
“Daisy, you stay here. This is just something I have to do alone, as a man. As a clown.”
Daisy blew her nose in a floral handkerchief, and waited, crying quietly.

Crow cut through the flap of the tent separating the Ringmaster's office from the rest of the tent, and slipped through. He did it quietly, with one of Robert the Knife-Thrower's knives. The Ringmaster was counting his money, making piles of green bills and shiny dubloons. Crow tried to be quiet as he crossed the floor, but he remembered too late he was wearing squeaky shoes, not sneaky shoes.
“Crow, what are you doing in here? Did you spill the paint, you dunderhead?” The Ringmaster bellowed, never noticing the knife. When Crow held the tip of the knife to the Ringmaster's big, bulbous nose though, he finally noticed.
“Ringmaster Carl, you are the worst man I know. You ground up the old dead elephants to feed the baby ones! You deep-fry moldy orange rinds and serve them as jalapeño poppers! You said Sword Swallower Shaun's rust-poisoning was a preexisting condition and wouldn't pay for the doctor!”
“What do you want, Crow? Money? Power? I'll give you anything you want! We could be partners! Carl and Crow's Carnival! It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?”
Crow tied Carl's hands behind his back, and pulled him out into the main ring. The dunk tank was there, and Crow forced Carl up onto its seat at knife-point. He made sure Carl's tied hands weren't visible from most angles, then tied his ankles up too for good measure. “Tonight, you're going to be the main attraction!” Crow smiled grimly, strong clown jaw set with determination.


“Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight is the night many of us have been waiting for for twenty-two years! Ringmaster Carl has volunteered to be dunked in our dunktank of doom!” Crow's announcement drew cheers from the audience, but those from the circus workers were much louder.
“He was very clear in his wishes for tonight, and told me that even if he begged, we shouldn't show any mercy. Who will come down and try to dunk Carl?”
A line had already formed, headed up by some very scantily-clad bearded ladies. Crow was a little sad he wouldn't be able to stay and watch the fun, but he had bigger funnel-cakes to fry. While hairy women threw balls at the target, ignoring Carl's pleas and threats, Crow found Daisy and dragged her out of the main tent.
“Let's get our things, Daisy. We need to leave. We can start our own circus, maybe in Alaska. We'll have polar bears and penguins in our act, and sell fried whale blubber instead of dough. It will be great.”
“Crow, I love you. I've loved you since I met you, but you've done terrible things today!”
“To terrible people who deserved it.” Crow replied. “In the end, greed will kill Carl, not me.”

Back in the main tent, under the hot spotlights, Carl watched ball after ball graze the target...seemingly closer each time. ~It's okay,~ he thought to himself. ~If I go in I'll just float to the top again and roll over. I won't drown.~ Then he remembered with horror that he still had many gold dubloons in his pockets.
The ball finally hit its mark, thrown by one of the midgets he had once used as an elephant pacifier. SPLASH! Carl sank right to the bottom, just as a scream went up from the crowd.

Georgina was waddling into the tent, blown up three times her usual size! She scowled at the audience, and spat popcorn seeds like bullets from a gun at them! Blood sprayed and innocent circus-goers keeled over wherever her buttery volleys landed!


Crow heard the screams from the tent, and frowned. “Something's not right, I feel it in my gut.”
Daisy clutched at Crow's striped clown-shirt. “Don't go back! They'll know it was you who set this up, and arrest you!”
Crow kissed Daisy on the lips to quiet her, and set his bags on the ground. “Go on without me, Daisy. I'll catch up, I promise.”


Inside the main tent, Georgina was toying with the frantic crowd, letting them get near the exit flap before driving them back with her seedy rain of death. Injured people, clowns, midgets, and animals were stumbling about on the bloody sawdust and among the sticky bleachers, nearly crazy with fear.
“You worms! You worthless sponges! You come here to see our masterful skills and amazing feats, and the money flies right by us! I haven't made minimum wage in 38 years! I have a boil on my ass that looks like Mars crashed into my butt, and you're all drinking martinis every night in your mansions. You make me sick!”

A comically-tinny horn honked, and a tiny green car raced through a flap on the other side of the tent. It barreled towards the swollen Georgina, and slammed into her before she'd managed to waddle about to face it. Crow stepped out of the car, and dragged the dazed hag over to a spare spotlight. He pulled her up over the transparent cover, and tied her hands and feet to spread-eagle her across it.
“Georgina, sometimes justice is a dish best served...salty.” Crow switched on the spotlight, and joined the rest of the crowd as they rushed out of the tent. Seconds later, a tidal wave of popcorn spilled from the main tent!

A crowd of circus workers surrounded Crow, shaking his hand and thanking him. Crow broke free of their gratitude with a smile. “Thank you all, but I have a bus to catch.”

The End