I could hear it's shoes squeak with each hurried step as it tried to run from me. I glance at my watch, it's about 2 hours til dawn. That fat bastard won't be making it back to it's den tonight, especially with me on it's tail. Might as well finish it off.
I finally catch up and I can see it waddling hurriedly about half a block ahead of me when it ducks into an alley-way I know to be a dead end. Time to go to work.
"Hey Tub-o. What's the big hurry?" I call out mockingly, "I was just getting warmed up!"
I step into the opening of the alley, cutting off it's retreat. It was cowering at the wall, honking it's bicycle horn pleadingly.
"Come on," I say while cracking my knuckles, "Let's dance."
It was then that the large, rotund, cowering clown in front of me starts laughing. He stands upright and stretches.
"Shit," I mutter.
It flashes its nasty, jagged, yellowed teeth at me in a twisted grin. Its orangish eyes glaring at me maniacally. The moonlight casting an eerie glow off its pale white skin. The damn thing had to be a good foot taller than me. Outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds.
It was an Alpha and I fell right into it's trap. I couldn't believe I had made such a rookie mistake.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," I repeat as I hear a noise behind me.
They were approaching from all around. I was surrounded. There was at least six of them, maybe more. I reached over my shoulder and grabbed my trusty shillelagh, a souvenir I picked up a number of years ago. It was about 3 feet long made for a lightweight and versatile weapon and when coupled with an ancient Celtic fighting style I had mastered, a deadly one.
"This may hurt a little." I say to no one in particular as I lashed out at the closest one and shattered its jaw. The cursed thing went down like the Denver Broncos.
The next one strikes with an over-sized mallet. I block and deflect with my weapon then drop down, spin, and sweep its leg, knocking it off balance and finishing it off with the ball of my shillelagh to the bridge of its nose, blood splattering upward. 2 down. 4 to go.
As I stood upright and turned to face my next adversary, I was hit in the face with a pie, blinding me. Custard. I HATE Custard. And where in the blazing HELL do they get all of these fucking pies?!?
One jumped on my back, and another strikes me in the gut. I reach back and flip the one off my back and into the one in front of me. As I wipe the custard from my eyes, I feel the sting in my side and look down. There, staring back at me, the hilt of a knife. Damn thing shanked me.
"Now I'm angry"" I said as I grabbed the protruding handle and pulled out the weapon. The pain was excruciating but from best I could tell, the wound was only superficial.
Just then an arm grabbed me and pulled me into a nearby doorway, slamming it shut and bolting it behind me.
"You're in no condition to fight" said a female voice, "And besides the suns coming up. They're retreating."
