Forget underground death worms.

Clowns are real. I know they are. You know how I know? One was in my house. A real one. Named JuJubes I think. It's like that moment that you realize there are snakes in your walls. There is a clown in my house... How do we get it out? I was very afraid that I might agitate her, since I don't think she'd had all of her morning cigarettes.

So I am now beginning my long drawn out plan of revenge against my brother and his family. It was an act of war. I knew someone in my twisted family was responsible the second I opened the door. I knew. I knew it because they are on the other side of the country and nobody at the actual party would want to subject themselves to a private clown. I was just so glad that she had 3 songs and a kazoo. SO. glad. Because one awkward clown song is NEVER enough. They must have paid for the DELUXE package. Who invited them, anyway?

My plan might include having my sister in law hospitalized in a major urban center, specifically so that I can hire several telegram types to show up in her room, or maybe I'll have to resort to hiring a local from their small town. I know some people there who could use the dough AND have no pride. So dear Siblings and Sibling Attachees, you're never safe.

Love Me.