You wanna know the best thing about being a black-market organ dealin’ clown? People laugh atcha’ jokes. Sure, a knife to the throat is pretty fricken good incentive, but god-damn! The laughs…that’s what I do it for; the laughs. I mean, I been a clown for twenty-five fuckin’ years, twenty-five fucking years, and I ain’t never heard so many laughs in my life as I have in the last few weeks.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never had a problem makin’ friends, in fact, Mattie and Mort are the best fuckin friends an old bastard like me could ever ask for. Shit, even talkin’ about them makes me a little teary eyed. Makin’ people laugh though…that’s something different. ‘Specially in today’s world. This fucking technology shit is takin’ over. The worst part? I’ll tell ya the worst part…the worst part is that no matter how fuckin funny I am, the god-damn internet is always funnier.

I go to a party now, and some of these little shits actually have the balls to fuckin’ call me out on my tricks. They fuckin’ Google it. Can you believe that shit? They fuckin’ Google my jokes, and then I’m stuck there, standin’ in front of a buncha little snot nosed brats with no jokes and no tricks, because they went and Googled the whole damn show!

Now, I’m not gonna tell you the blood doesn’t still make my stomach turn a little. I can’t tell you that, cuz’ I’d be lying. It’s fucking disgusting, but Mort says it’s therapeutic for my anger issues. I’m startin’ to think he might be right, too.

“Hey Kev, you okay man?”

I glance at Matt in the rear-view mirror and smile, “Yeah, of course. I was just thinkin’, that’s all. Why, what’s up Mattie?”

Matt smiles back at me and I notice how much better he’s gotten at applying his face make-up. It doesn’t even crack at the corners anymore. He’s one of the good ones; knows how to honor the fuckin’ uniform.

“Well, it’s just that you parked in front of the house, man.” Matt’s concerned gaze meets my own in the mirror, before it darts off to Mort. “I mean, it’s just…I think we might have already fucked this one up a little, ya know? Cuz’ Santiago said one of the big ones was, uhmm…” I watch as Matt closes his eyes and scrunches his face in thought. “I’m pretty sure he said, like, don’t park no wheres near the house of the hit…or something like that.”

I look around me and realize the kid is right. I pulled right into the fuckin’ driveway. “Shit.” I look over at Mort, who shrugs his shoulders. “Shit…I did, huh? For fucks sake.” I pull in a deep breath and shake my head. I fiddle with the keys in the ignition and think about how bad breakin’ this rule would really be. What’s the organ dealin’ fucker gonna do, kill us? I chuckle and look up at my boys, “Oh well.”

Matt grins back at me and Mort grunts, a small smile curling the left corner of his mouth.

“Who’s the hit again? Some broad, right?” After that first time with Jerry, may his alcoholic fuckin soul rest in peace, the organ dealer we had lined up became a partner of sorts.

He was kind of hesitant, but I’m a real business man, so we made a deal. We do the work, he pays the money. Personally, I think he’s one of those pansy asses who got that clown phobia nonsense. That just makes it easier for me to negotiate business though, cuz’ that means we got somethin’ over him. So, all it really took was some common fuckin sense logic, and Mort holdin’ a balloon starin the guy down through the whole fuckin conversation, and bada-bing bada-boom, he was sold!

Matt looks down at the paper in his hands and nods, “Yeah, that’s right. Some chick named Marsha Duvall,” he looks up and squints toward the house, “at this address.”

“Okay.” I pull the latch that opens the trunk and smile, “Time for some therapy, boys.”

Mort smiles and glances in the rearview mirror from his spot in the passenger seat, “Don’t forget the duct tape this time, Matthew.”

“Oh yeah! Thanks Mort, you’re a real pal man.”

We file out of the car and I wait by the front while the boys grab Mort’s bag and whatever else they’ve decided to bring this time. I watch them together and my heart does this stupid little thumpy thing. It feels nice to have a real-life family. I chuckle at how funny they look standin next to each other. Mort all serious and shit, and Mattie all lanky and wide-eyed. Mort is about 6’4 next to Matt’s 5’8…some people get all the luck. I used to be 5’4 before my unicycle accident a few years ago; I lost a god-damn inch to that fuckin accident. That’s okay though, because I got a good face, so whenever I decide to seek out some much-needed lady companionship, I do alright. I’ll never touch a fuckin unicycle again, though, that’s for damn sure. I look down at my water-squirting joke watch and sigh.

“Yous guys almost ready? Just cuz we parked in the driveway don’t mean we should be takin our sweet ass time out in plain sight.”

Matt looks up and hoists a bag onto his shoulder, “Sorry Kev, we’ll hurry, won’t we Mort?”

Mort nods his agreement and closes the trunk, his medical bag in his free hand. “Yup.”

I turn around toward the house and frown. Should we go in the front door? I’m pretty sure that was on the list of shit Santiago said not to do, but we already fucked that up by parkin in the driveway, so… “Let’s take the front door. Maybe the neighbors will think it’s a business call, if they see us.”

Matt smiles broadly, “Hey, Kev! That’s a great idea.”

God, I love this kid. There ain’t a damn person in this world who can make me feel more important than this fuckin weirdo kid. “Thanks, Mattie. I appreciate you sayin that.”

“Of course, Kev.” Matt looks over at Mort, “I love you too, man. Just in case you were feeling left out, ya know.”

Mort chuckles, a rare fuckin sound, and nods his head.

We walk the short distance from the car to the house, and stop in front of the door. Should we knock? I raise my hand to knock, but hesitate. “Yous guys think we should knock?”

Matt tilts his head to the side and says, “Maybe just try the handle?”

“Try the handle? Try the…what kind of fuckin idiot leaves the door unlocked? There’s dangerous people around here, Mattie. They ain’t gonna just –” I try the handle, just to humor the kid, and it fuckin turns. “Jesus Christ…it’s unlocked. These people are some real fuckin winners, huh?”

Matt purses his lips and nods his head, and Mort grunts.

“Alright, hand me a bat or somethin’, huh? We got some weapons, right?” I look at Matt, who packed a bag of what he likes to call “end of life” equipment.

Matt turns to rummage around in his duffel and says, “Yeah, sure Kev. I think I got one of them travel sized ones in here somewhere.” He feels around for another minute and then pulls a medium sized bat out of the bag, “Here ya go, man.”

I take the bat and nod to the bag, “Yous guys should maybe get somethin’ out too. Ya know, just in case she’s a fighter.” I cringe slightly as the memory of the last lady we wasted pops into my head. The bitch kneed me right in the nuts; KO, down for the count. Luckily Mattie was quick thinkin’ and clocked her in the head with his bag, or else the bitch mighta turned my jewels into fuckin crystal dust or somethin’.

“Oh, yeah. Good idea, Kev.” Matt reaches into the bag and hands Mort a crossbow, and then pulls out a battle axe for himself.

I stare at him for a minute. “Mattie…where the fuck did you get that shit?”

He looks back at me in that wide-eyed way he has and says, “Well, I got the crossbow from a flea market,” He pulls a couple arrows out of his bag and hands them to Mort, “and the battle axe is a replica of Gimli’s, from the Lord of the Rings, ya know?”

“Lord of tha?” I shake my head, “Nevermind, let’s just get going.” Who the hell brings a battle axe to an organ harvesting? Gotta love the fuckin little weirdo.

I push the door open slowly and peek inside. There’s a stair case right in front of me, but it’s dark. I look to the right and see someone sitting in a chair facing away from the door. Bingo. I check behind the door quickly, there’s a kitchen to the left of the stairs, but it’s dark as well. I turn behind me to nod to the boys, and then slowly enter the house.

We file in, all quiet like, and I nod at Mort to shut and lock the door behind him. I turn back toward the living room and slowly walk toward the chair, careful not to make too much noise or bump anything with my over-sized clown shoes. The television is blaring and I can’t help but think how stupid this bitch is, leavin’ the door unlocked and the TV on loud enough for burglars and shit to just come traipsin’ in.

I hold my bat in the air as I round the chair and yell, “Don’t make no noise, and don’t run, and everything will be –” I look back at Matt and Mort, “What the shit is this?” I point to the person sitting in the chair. The man sitting in the chair, the man who is clearly not Marsha fuckin Duvall. “Oh, god damn it!”

Matt peeks around the chair, battle axe held high and says, “Huh. By any chance, is your name Marsha Duvall? I don’t want to like, assume your gender or anything, but you do kinda look like a man…like, a lot.”

I smack my free hand against my wig, careful not to mess up my face paint and look up at Mattie from under my lashes. He’s such a thoughtful person, but sometimes I wonder what woulda happened to him if I hadn’t found him. He’s too nice. “Just answer the fuckin kid.”

The man’s mouth hangs open, and he shakes his head quickly, “N-no. I’m George Duvall…Marsha is my w-wife.”

I sigh heavily. Could this hit get any more fucked up? “God, damn it. God fucking damn it.” I look at George and shake my head, “Well, is your wife home?”

He glances nervously from me to Mort, before his eyes land on Matt’s battle axe. “No. No, she’s at the hairdresser.”

I purse my lips and look back at Mort and Mattie. “What the fuck do we do now?”

Matt itches the back of his head with his free hand and sucks his teeth against his cheek. “Gee…I don’t really know, Kev. I guess we could just take him, but –” The TV cuts from some dumb ass commercial about stain removers and Matt’s head snaps up as the regular program resumes, “Hey! I fuckin’ love this show man!”

George shifts anxiously in his seat and laughs weakly as he says, “Yeah? M-me too.” He looks from Matt to me, then up at Mort as he says, “Uhm…you guys want a…uh, you want a beer…o-or something?”

Mort laughs, he laughs as he plops his bag down on the floor and crosses the room to sit on the couch next to George’s chair. I stare at him. I guess a beer does sound kinda nice. “Yeah, George. You know, that’s real thoughtful of you. A beer sounds real nice.” I glance at Matt and nod, “Hey Mattie, maybe you should grab the beers, huh?”

Matt looks at George and smiles, “Yeah, sure. Good idea, Kev. Your kitchen is past the front door, right George?”

George swallows quickly and nods at Matt as he says, “Yeah…I only have Miller lite though. My wife, she only lets me buy lites because she says I’m getting fat.”

“Oh, man…that’s not fair at all. I think you have a good body. I mean, I’ve only seen you in that chair, but you look pretty handsome for a random dude who watches TV and drinks beer in the middle of the day, ya know?” Matt shakes his head as he walks toward the kitchen.

“T-thanks.” George’s brow rises and he nervously pulls on his fingers. “That’s nice of you to say. My wife is never satisfied with anything.”

I shake my head as I move over to sit next to Mort on the couch. “That shit don’t fly with me. Nope, they either appreciate what they got, or they get the fuck out. I can’t take that naggin shit.”

George nods his head slowly, “Yeah. It’s just hard, because we’ve been married for seven years now…so it’d be hard to leave.”

I look at Matt as he comes back into the room carrying four beers and shake my head, “That’s bull shit pal. Life is too short for that shit, trust me.”

George takes the beer from Matt and sighs, “Yeah. I know.” He shifts in his chair and crosses his legs as Matt hands the boys their beers, then takes a seat on the end of the couch near me.

“I never understood women.” Matt takes a sip of his beer as he watches the episode of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia that has, so far, spared George’s life. Mort nods his head in agreement. Matt glances at George, “Doesn’t matter what you do, eventually they end up pissed, ya know?”

George, Mort and me all nod. The kid is right. “So, uh, what do you do George?”

George takes a sip of his beer and replies, “Oh, I’m an accountant.” He looks at the three of us and asks, “What exactly do you fellas do?”

I shake my head, because I think it’s pretty fuckin obvious what we do, but answer, “We’re clowns, George. See the uniforms? Clowns. We got some side business right now, but at the end of the day, we’re just some clowns tryin ta make a living in a fucked up, laughless world.”

George took a long swig of his beer and laughed. “I didn’t know clowns made house calls.”

I look at him for a minute, trying to make sure he isn’t tryin’ to be a wise guy. “You being a wise guy, George?” I look at the bat still in my hand.

His eyes get huge and he stutters, “N-no, I just…”

I laugh, “It’s okay George, I’m only fuckin’ with ya. You’re a good guy, George.”

He laughs again, slightly nervous, but not anywhere as nervous as he should be. I mean, this guy is really not aware of his own safety at all. “You know George, you should really lock your door. I mean, it’s dangerous around here. All kinds of crazy bastards lurkin’ around.”

Matt looks away from the TV and nods, “Yeah man, you’re lucky we came by. Think of the kinds of guys who break in houses with guns blazing. You’d be toast, man.”

George eyes us as he finishes off his beer and nods slowly, “Yeah…I guess you’re right. Sorry boys, I’ll uhm, I’ll be more careful from now on I guess.” He laughs again and glances at the bat.

Matt nods. “Good, man. That’s good.” He turns his attention back to the TV just as the end credits roll on the screen. “That was such a good episode, right Mort? I don’t think we’ve seen that one before, have we?”

Mort nods his head and replies, “Nope, haven’t seen it.” He raises his beer to George and says, “Thanks, George.”

George’s brow furrows, but he nods. “No problem guys. No problem at all.”

I clear my throat and look at my boys, “So, George…I really hate to do this pal, but we’re kinda on a schedule.” I look down at my joke watch and sigh, “We’ll probably have to do you now.”

George sits up straight in his chair and his eyes widen to the size of saucers. “I’d really rather you didn’t. I mean, I…I’m not really into that kind of thing.” He chuckles nervously, and it sounds kind of like one of them hyenas from The Lion King to me. What a solid fucking movie.

Matt laughs and shakes his head, “No man, he doesn’t mean “do” you like, sex…although it’s a shame you’re so closed minded. You should really be open to more things, George. Except like, locks…you should not have those open, obviously.” Matt looks at me and I nod.

George clears his throat, “I’m afraid I don’t really understand what you mean then.”

Matt leans forward and his voice is gentle as he explains, “He means we gotta kill you now, Georgey.”

George takes in a deep breath and scrambles, “But…I thought you said I was a nice guy, remember? You said I was nice. You want my wife, remember?”

I smile politely, “Well, yeah George, you’re great. Thanks again for the beer, by the way.”

He nods slowly and waves his hand in the air.

“The thing is, your wife ain’t here, and we can’t go back empty handed.”

I watch as George presses himself into the chair as his eyes dart from me to Matt, to Mort and back. “You can wait. You can take her. She’s a bitch. She deserves to die way more than I do. For pete’s sake, she buys lite beer!”

I look at Matt and Mort and shrug. He has a point. “He has a point.”

Matt nods, “He does…plus he was super nice to us. That’s never happened before, ya know?” Mort shrugs and nods.

I look back at George, who is crying like a little bitch, and nod. “Okay, we’ll wait for your wife.”

“Oh, thank you! She’ll be home soon. You want me to call her? I can call and have her come home early…you know, make up an emergency or something?”

I nod, “That works. Do it on speaker phone though, got it?”

George nods and pulls out his phone. He punches in the numbers and presses speaker.

Hello? George, what do you want? I’m busy.

“Hi, hon…I just, I had a bit of an accident.

What? What’d you do now? You better not have made a mess, or so help me god. I just cleaned George!

“No, baby. I didn’t make a mess, but I need you to come home. It’s pretty bad.

Oh, for heaven’s sake George. Fine. I’ll be there as soon as I can. And George?

“Yes, babe?”

You better be dying.

*Click*

Matt looked at George and shook his head. “Wow, man. Your wife is kind of a twat.”

George ran a hand through his chestnut colored hair and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, she is.”

I shake my head and sigh, “She’s got you by the balls, pal. You want another beer?”

George shakes his head, “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, help yourself though.”

“I’m okay.” I look at Mort, who is just staring at George. “So how long you think she’ll be?”

George straightens his arm and then pulls it toward himself to look at his watch. “Hopefully only a few minutes. Her hairdresser is only just down the road.”

“Okay, okay…that’s fine.” I twist the bat in my hands and glance at the TV. The boring ass stain commercial is playing again. “How many times do they play this same fuckin commercial, huh?”

George lets out a quick laugh, “A few hundred times a day, I think.”

Matt shifts on the couch next to me, and I look up at him. He’s fingering one of the edges of his axe. I look over at Mort. He’s tapping a finger against the trigger mechanism on the crossbow. I clear my throat. This is kind of awkward. “This is kind of awkward, huh?”

Matt and Mort nod, and I purse my lips.

George giggles. I look at him and feel my face scrunch up. It’s weird to hear a grown man giggle. Maybe he knows we just decided to kill him.

He looks up at us, “You’re going to kill me anyway, aren’t you?”

Matt, Mort and I nod.

George looks at the television and nods. Tears are streaming down his cheeks and snot is glistening in a trail from his nose down into his mouth.

“Well, I guess we can start now, huh Mort?” I look over at Mort and he smiles. It is, after all, his turn. He pulls the trigger on the crossbow and…TWANG!

Matt leans forward and whistles, “Oh, nice one Mort! Right through the eyeball.”

I watch as George’s head turns toward us, his eye is twitching around the arrow. “Oh, shit…he ain’t dead yet fellas.” I stand up and move in front of the chair, George’s head follows me. I lift the bat and whack him in the crotch.

“Hnnng! Ugh…” George raises his arms, and I raise my bat again. How the fuck is this bastard still alive?

Matt stands up and moves forward, he lifts his battle axe and smashes it down into George’s chestnut hair. His skull makes a cracking noise as blood splatters everything within a five-foot radius of George’s chair. I feel a little nauseous at the sight of all this fucking blood, but the adrenaline keeps me clear-headed.

“You okay, Kev? I didn’t really think about all the mess that would make. I’m sorry, man.”

“Oh no, Mattie, I’m fine pal. Thanks for worryin’ though.”

Mort stands and reaches across us to pull the arrow out of George’s collapsed skull. The arrow comes out easily, and the eyeball is still skewered on the bolt. Mort holds it up in the air and pokes it with his free hand. He smiles.

I hear a car pull into the driveway and look to my boys. Their faces light up, and I know in that moment…no matter how fucked up they are, or I am…we’re family. I lift my bat up against my shoulder as a calm the likes of which I ain’t never felt before settles over me. I’d do anything for family.

As Marsha Duvall’s key turns in the door, that damn stain commercial plays on the television again. I look around the living room, which is now covered in blood, and think maybe we should get some for the cleanup. I nod toward the television as the door slowly opens, “Maybe we should pick some of that shit up. Might come in handy.”

Matt’s eyes widen and he nods enthusiastically, and Mort chuckles.

Marsha Duvall closes the door behind her and yells, “George! I’m home,” she shoves her keys into her purse as she mumbles something about George being a man-child. “George? I swear to god if you’ve made a mess –” She freezes in her tracks as she looks up at us.

I smile. “Welcome home, babycakes.”