A CLOWN’S WORST NIGHTMARE

I screamed, the sound ripping through my bright red lips. My hands flew to my eyes- probably smudging the eyeshadow - in my vain attempts to remove the images, still burning in my mind from the nightmare that had rudely awoken me. It had been so real, so vivid!

In it, I had been a rather handsome middle-aged man with an office job, a beautiful wife and three children. Perfectly sane... perfectly boring!

With a shriek I leapt from the bed, aiming straight for the bathroom. I fell through the door onto the vanity and looked in the mirror, sighing with relief at the reflection that stared back at me; my own makeup smeared face underneath a head that was topped with dirty, green hair. Glancing down, I saw I was still wearing the blood-stained shirt from the night before. There was even still blood on my hands. The sight made me smile, my reflection smirking right along with me.

Whistling a jaunty tune, I returned to the bedroom and my smile widened. She was still there, gloriously naked and lying on the bed where I had left her.

"Well of course you're where I left you, doll," I said amidst my laughter. "You can't go anywhere when you're dead now, can you!"

I picked up the pretty, blonde and blue-eyed corpse. Shit she has a great set of tits, I thought. Funny how they can still be so perky even in death. I began to dance, humming the waltz as I spun her around, her luscious bosom bouncing with the movement and her silky, bloodied hair flying. I laughed again. I couldn't help it. It was just too perfect.

"Who needs a beautiful wife when I got you, doll?"

She didn't answer. She just stared at me, her mouth hanging open, ready and waiting. I was only too happy to oblige, the nightmare long forgotten.

She's such a good doll.

©CJ