Psychopath Clown Novels & Stories

"You are a clown to think shouting would solve anything. You think I did that alone? No, we are now partners in crime. So long you agreed to go along with the plan to do away with her, you're already a part in this!" He must be kidding me. I flew up in rage. "A part of what, dude? I'm not a part of your shit. You're a fucking psychopath. You are rapist too. And man, you're so fucked up with the evidence I've got on you. Do you want to play the hard way? I'm ready for that! Give it to me."

the one guy said who are seemingly lost his patient and immediately punch her abdomen and she was passed out. "Who the fuck you are,?" Yarro ask to the Psychopath guy in front of him. Who were looking at him with the smirk on his lips. "I am asking you a question,?!" the tune of his voice hard and give him a sidekick and punch into his face. But he just rubbed his face and then looking down into his wrist watch. "FUCK, I'm asking you a question what do you want,? are you a spy,!" he ask and now his voice was deafening while punching, kicking, him and grabbed his collar.

He tried sounding seductive but still, you could hear death in his tone. “I think that can wait, but I'll tell you something else though,” she announced, taking out two pairs of knuckle rings— original gold. “I'm eager to hear it, my love,” the man answered once more, licking his lower lips. “So go on please, do well to entertain me.” “Sometimes, I wish I've got enough weapons like art the clown, the psychopath from the movie, ‘the terrifier’ for real. I'd love to watch that terrified look on your face.”

Otherwise i have to listen to many questions i don’t even know the answer of. “Shut up, you freaking like someone?” She asks again. I nod my head. “Oh my gosh I think I know who it is!” she says excitedly. “Its Toby isn’t it.?” “Toby Arnold, the guy who ate chalk in 6th grade.. The guy who licks his fingers when no one is looking. The one who confessed he liked me in front of my class by standing on the teachers table saying ‘I like ju Shummer’ Because he has huge braces on?” I ask. She nods.”No! shit, hes gross as hell. Even grosser than me.”

After him asking that I realized I was wearing two rings on my hands, they may have scratched his face when I slapped him. Carl Jung once said, “A healthy man does not torture others--- generally it is the tortured who turn into torturers.” I took his word for it as a child because whatever happened to Felix in the first 7 years of his life must’ve traumatized him, it would’ve hurt him more than he could hurt me. I thought that and excused everything he did to me. But I can’t seem to do that anymore. The excuse feels too old to be used now.

They would have robbed the store and left the town. Finding RK had been the best thing ever. Now he had someone to do the dirty work while he watched Gina's life get ruined. He wanted to break her to the point that she'd never get back on her feet again. He'd do it slowly by slowly until every person in the town went against her. He went down in his basement and looked at the photos of her. She was always very happy, not knowing the pain she caused people by stealing their keys. To him, she was the real psycho. How could anyone keep stealing for fun without thinking of the consequences?

As he starts to eat his food. "Do you come here often?" Alissa asks. "Once in a while when I am craving a good old sandwich." As he motions for her to carry on eating. Which she does. "Where do you go then? If not here?" Alissa asks. He raises his eyebrows in amusement. "I usually go out at night. I go to clubs." She nods, "Which clubs?" "Clubs that you can't handle." His eyes held something daring. What did he mean by that? She put it in the back of her head. She wanted to ask him more but the questions where stuck in her throat. She would feel like she was now just prying in his business. She keeps on stealing glances at him.

I yelled this time, banging my hand against the table to instill the emotion I was feeling. "It had to be done." He said without so much as a look of regret in his eyes. The man was a true psychopath. I knew he could do a lot but not this. Not him making me see my own son as another person's. This was too much for me to bear. "It had to be done?" I snorted, " You've got to be kidding me." I said, as I furiously combed my hand through my hair. "You were going to give Clara's baby to an orphanage? Your great grandchild?" I whispered-shouted.

I stare back down at the single strip of paper and the pencil between my fingers as I tap the eraser against my chin. In my own experience, the word psychopath means I’m cursed. One that has no escape. When I first saw the word, my thoughts immediately went to my father. A man who mastered the art of disguise, becoming a wolf in sheep's clothing. Tears prick at my eyes, and I quickly blink them away. I can't show weakness; not here, not now. It will only fuel them more.

One single night, and he’d already turned his quarters into a slaughterhouse. “You know,” he said, finally sitting up, a weird smile curling his lips, “I wanted to give you a surprise this morning. And I’m glad you’re surprised.” This guy was a psychopath. Why hadn’t I clocked it before? The arrogance, the cruelty, the casual violence—I’d read them as entitlement, as the spoiled behavior of a rich brat who’d never faced consequences. But this was something else. This was a lack of something fundamental, a hole where empathy should have been.