The clown gave Johnny Boy a wicked smile, a knowing smile, like it was waiting for him to figure out the significance of the seeds.

“You know.” The clown said.

“No, I don’t.”

“Well… let me show you then.”

Johnny Boy followed the clown through the empty town until they came to the church. It was burned to the grown.

“Barbecue on Sunday,” the clown said.

Johnny Boy didn’t get its meaning. “How did this happen? Didn’t the fire department put out the flames?”

“No water; remember?” The clown was smiling again, in a distasteful way.

“But what about the seeds?” Johnny Boy asked.

“Hillbilly Hallucinogens; They’re shaped like hearts. Lovers take them during the throws of passion to have an out-of-body experience.”

Johnny Boy followed the clown to the ravine. It was gushing with rain water and mud. “No seeds…no seeds,” the clown said.

“They grow here?”

“Only here, and strange things happen when it doesn’t rain. The dust on the seeds is mixed with metal; it does things to the brain.”

“Then why did you offer them to me?”

“I didn’t tell you to eat them; I told you to plant them.”

“You’re giving me a headache and I need a drink.”

“Well… there’s a no drinking limit in town.”

“Let’s go to the bar.”

And the clown skipped on ahead.

Johnny Boy felt his nerves tightening; he was in psychological pain; nothing made sense.

The clown had already poured two whiskeys and Johnny Boy swiped one to toast himself in the mirror. He was the clown.



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