[size=12:b444f73207]HELL HATH COME TO EARTH[/size:b444f73207]
I was a child when it happened. A very small child. No one believed me, as you probably won’t. Quite frankly, I don’t blame you. At this point I must warn you that the experiences that I am about to relate to you are very disturbing (*see footnote at end of document), and you are forthwith proceeding at your own risk. If you are going to be upset about losing a full night’s sleep due to the horrors unfolding before your eyes through the succeeding document, then I must heartily suggest that you stop reading now.
At the age of three, most children have this unexplainable desire to go to the circus. We all know the feeling. It is a curious intrigue, similar to the desire that most eight-year-old boys have to partake in the sexual experience in the fullest. I was no exception – neither to the three-year-old or the eight-year-old desire – and it just so happened that my desire was going to be satisfied the very year that it hit. It all came about when Nanny® showed up. Nanny® was my grandmother from New Jersey on my mother’s side. She drove out west to Michigan purposed only at one thing, that being, to take Heidi, Mark – that being myself – and John to the “Greatest Show On Earth”, playing at the Palace. The three of us were thrilled by the idea, and stayed up all the preceding night in anticipation, discussing the mystical wonders that we were going to be witness to in just a few short hours. My dad requested that he might accompany us in order to help Nanny® watch over us. I think this was actually just an excuse to cover up for the fact that the three-year-old circus-draw that he had experienced had never been satisfied. Regardless of all the details, I, Mark Pope, was going to the circus seventeen days after my third birthday.
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The morning of the circus was the longest I have ever experienced, partly because of the anticipation, but that was coupled with the fact that I was having trouble staying awake as I hadn’t slept the night before. This torturous experience was eventually over and we were in the car. I don’t remember much of the drive except for that I felt car sick from riding in the back of the station wagon.
When we arrived at the palace I was taken back by the sheer size of it. I was reminded of the Batman Forever film with George Clooney, where Robin’s family of gymnasts were performing in a similar structure. Except for that in Batman Forever the entire building ended up blowing up it was basically the same thing.
We were early, so Nanny® took Heidi and I out to the countless vendors. Nanny® bought for Heidi a T-shirt reading “I have the BEST Grandma”, and for me she bought a headband with eight inch antennas with flashing red lights on the ends. We both donned our new apparel before re-entering the stands, hoping to impress upon all that saw us the awesomeness of our Nanny® and the total lack of shame that I had at the innocent age of three.
It so happened that I was sitting on the seat closest to the isle. From my vantage point, about halfway up from the center ring, I could see countless other flashing headbands worn by other excited, shameless three-year-olds. The entire audience, tens of thousands in number, was laced with these red flashing lights. I felt excited to be a flashing light on the other side of the stadium for someone else to look at, it made me feel proud, it made me feel as if I belonged.
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It was soon after thinking this that I felt something brush my head, and I turned quickly to see a clown, an evil looking vile clown with a sinister red smile, and yellow suspenders, snatching my headset from me as he walked down the isle towards the ring. I stared in horror for a few seconds, hoping that maybe he would return it, until I saw him rob another child about ten rows down of his headset.
The horror. I cannot explain the horror I felt. That someone was really so evil that he could just steal unchecked from little children in order to re-sell the headsets at the next showing. I honestly could hardly believe my eyes. My insides churned in disgust and loathing for that sick perverted fiend of hell. I tried to calm myself to the point where I might be able to speak. This took several moments, so by the time I managed to gasp out the satanic nature of said crime to my dad, the clown and his evil had moved on to victims out of site. This put me in the position where no one believed me. I told Nanny® and she just said “oh shush Mark, you must have lost it.” I pleaded my case to everyone multiple times, with my eyes wet with tears and my head bear. None believed me except for John, and he only because he was born with a supernatural ability to hate all clowns with a furry unparalleled up to that point.
I don’t remember any of the performance after that, I was trying to cope with the fact that I had just been robbed by a clown of my most prized possession, and worse, that no one believed me. I wanted to curl up and die, but unfortunately my youth prevented this from happening naturally, and the only object that I might have been able to use to end my life had just been stolen from my person.
It was in these moments of total despair that God made a revelation to me, a young child. He showed me that clowns were not people. They come from hell. Some might argue that underneath the sick makeup and disguise there is a human being with a family to support, but this is not true. Underneath the makeup is a twisted body, of what was once a man, but upon selling himself to Satin, lost his humanity, and became nothing but a clown. Once a man has donned a clown’s costume it ceases to be a disguise, the disguise is then his human face. The demonic one that we see and identify as a clown with is the evil truth.
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As a young child, it was difficult for me to understand how this concept worked, even though I did have a flawless awareness and belief in it. As I matured my understanding increased, and I started to realize that there was a duty that I had, as one of the few who saw the danger of the situation. That realization was that clowns need to be sent back to hell through death. I am pleading to you, help me. I need your help. I do what I can, but I will not be able to purge the world on my own, you need to step in whenever you encounter, or witness another encountering one of these minions of hell, you need to end its life in any manner that you can, just make sure its done efficiently and completely. A wounded clown is almost more dangerous than a healthy one, so whatever happens, leave no jobs half done. This is all I will ever ask of you if you promise to help me. You need to realize the dangers that we up against though, a clown almost ruined my life once, don’t let it happen to you.
*Mark Pope takes no responsibility for any physiological damage suffered as a result of reading this document. Proceed at your own caution. This document is not for you if: you are pregnant, you are a heavy drinker, you wear a pacemaker, or you are a minor.[/size:b444f73207][size=18:b444f73207][/size:b444f73207]