The thing about a clown race is…there are no winners. Particularly when everybody is taped down, but it’s broadly true regardless. Fancy leopard print hats? Still clowns.
Please note that this is definitive proof that clowns live in fear of God. See how they peddle. It does them no good, because…tape. Perhaps the pure light of heaven will cause them to burst into flames. It’ll be awesome, there’ll be this little honking sound when they go up.
Those…those lips. Those double-hot-dog, eight inch lips. She’s got a face like a binder clip.
I can’t explain this one, They’re not bookends, they’re kind of stuck together, so it’s not really a matching pair, it’s just…clowns, trying to escape their fate. There wasn’t even a sound reason for them to be stuck to the board with tape. They weren’t going anywhere, they were fiercely immobile, mired in their clownness before even the packing tape. This is one of Savers’ little mysteries. That, and where they went last week.
I think I’d rather believe they drove away, even with the tape, than that someone bought them. Anyway.
Savers on North Loop and Burnet, Austin