Clown

Inspired by yet another prompt, I present Clown.

“Jesus, Frank. What are we going to do? They’re right behind us!”

Frank glanced back, their pursuers hadn’t yet entered the tunnel. Good, they had a few minutes to set a trap. His green hair rustled in the wind.

“Okay, we’ll have to surprise them. They can’t think we’ve stopped running. Crouch down behind those crates over there.”

“And what about you?” Charles asked.

“I’ve got a secret weapon. We get them trapped in here and they’re dead, both of them.”

“Whatever you say man,” Charlie squeaked and ducked behind the crates.

Frank surveyed the area. The tunnel entrance was twenty meters ahead of them. The exit five behind. If he timed this right he’d catch those bastards off-guard and their troubles would be over, for a little while anyway.

Footsteps and a distinct clang, clang came from the front of the tunnel. They were almost here.

“Frank, get down! Hurry up man, those commie clowns are coming!”

“I’ve got them.” Frank ducked behind his crate and yanked the little red bulb off his nose. The one that once-upon a time would have been made of foam and inspired children to laugh. But there were no more children. And instead of foam it was a tightly-packed plastic container of C4. Nose in one hand, lighter in the other. Ready.

They appeared around the corner. Faces pale as snow with their own little red bulbs on their noses, and dressed all in red with their long shoes flopping as they walked. One holding the sickle. The other holding the hammer. Both of them clanging on the concrete as the Commie Clowns made their way down the tunnel.

“I’ve got them dead to rights,” Frank whispered. Charlie hunkered down. “Brace yourself.”

Frank lit the nose and tossed it to his Russian counterparts, the ball landing between them.

“Бомбить!”

The world exploded.