ebayclowns

once a fearsome Bastard indeed, this clown fell prey to the wrath of the former Emperor, who was not as confined to the psychic perimeters of the palace as their successor and liked nothing more than to while away the afternoon with a good old fashioned Bastard Hunt . the first to ever stage a breakout from the Hall of the Accursed, this nameless figure (they usually introduce themselves simply as The Worst, which, possibly, is their actual given name) betrayed and ditched all their Accursed co-conspirators just as they were making their escape. they were, for a brief time, pursued doggedly by the former Emperor’s agents until everyone lost interest in the whole affair. this lack of media coverage is simply perfect for The Worst’s purposes, as they are now secretly building an army to take revenge on the clown-crown. unfortunately, all their soldiers are also paper cut-outs with generally useless personalities.[2]

you might remember that last time i posted here, approximately two hundred years ago, i was in the middle of working on a serialised story event that tied together all the ebayclowns lore since the beginning of the blog. unfortunately before i could finish and post it, life got in the way as it so often does. anyway, it kind of fell to the wayside since then, but ive slowly gotten my groove back and moved onto various other projects 

i still really like the writing me and polymerdespair (one of the other ebayclowns mods) did for the event, so ive compiled all the completed segments as well as our story notes/drafts of the unfinished parts into this word doc, if anyone is still around who would like to read it. over the years its been so nice to see peoples reactions to this blog and to our weird little world we created. 

https://www.dropbox.com/s/7zgu55f202hew8f/ebayclowns%20lost%20episode.docx?dl=0

if youre reading this, i hope you have a great day or night.....wherever you are....whatever you are....

farewell for now..........:’O) 

description:

Limp Hogbeat, small business bungler who sells imitation-clownflesh products to cannibalistic Unexplainables whom are trying (and usually failing) to go vegan. his factory is full of big vats and other churning apparatuses that turn waste-paste and bone-china into clown-flavoured quorn, or “Qclorn”. all his staff have either fallen into the vats for a cheap bit or deserted him in search of a better wage than getting to lick the bowl, so Limp must run the whole operation by himself. he spends his days dashing between different work-stations, quick-changing into different uniforms, and rehearsing his alibi for the dreaded day one of his clients actually tries to look inside the factory. he plans to claim that all the employees are temporarily off with polkadot flu. might even throw in a “you know how it is”, followed by a nervous titter.

This guy looks like something you’d find caught in a fishing net

Flop Sweat, a ghostly influencer. he attempts to alter the course of present politics from beyond the grave, whispering in Senator’s ears, poltergeisting secret documents around, fiddling with particles to upend speeches and rallies at precise moments, that kind of thing. this might be effective if all his political enemies from when he was alive weren’t also currently dead and attempting to do the exact same thing.

purchased this individual at a yard sale for one (1) US dollar. what is the mark in the middle of the forehead?  clown power crystal?

Meg A. Bus, third-in-line to the Bus fortune. a fad for having crystals on you resulted in her current state; the gem (accursed loot from the hoard of the Bastard Horde) is pressing into her forebrain and sapping any energies she may have originally possessed. everybody’s moved on to the new “thing” - at time of writing, fitting as few clowns as possible into a single big car - but the Bus women are stubborn, and not one to let go of an accessory just because it’s “out of fashion” or “steeped in evil” or “actively hastening [their] deaths”.

who is this

Giblets the Evil Clown. they are the first and only clown to know what evil is, having accidentally come across the concept while hacking into god’s neopets account (which lists everything in creation). all other clowns are too innocent and stupid to understand “good” or “evil” as adjectives or as abstract concepts, and Giblet’s wracked countenance and furiously signing limbs are dismissed with a cry of “Morality? I ‘ardly know ‘e!”

faction: None

who is this airborn gentleman?

unidentified flying Bastard. as all good clowns know, Bastards sink, finding the lowest and foulest point in any institution or cave system, and then digging it even deeper. it is a rare Bastard that can defy gravity and their natural instincts to take to the skies, and, to be honest, there isn’t much they can do when they get up there; they’ll eat birds, combine lost balloons into obscene arrangements, and impersonate clouds, but this is all mostly to stick it to their less buoyant brethren.

Encountered these three friends at a greek festival. They didnt deign to answer my questions.

Goodwife Bad, Goodwife Good, and Goodwife Neutral. they are each other’s wives. they bought a mobile micronation when they retired; wherever their picket fence comes to rest is theirs, and right of imminent domain just barely makes up for not having enough room to scratch their asses. “Wife Country” can currently be found in a closet inside its own embassy, owing to an impulsive tri-anniversary dare.

Whenever I come across these beings they always look somewhat melancholy. Is that coincidenkce or a trait for their kind as a whole?

Molnolm, piano-scalped Unexplainable pop artist on the run for a crime they didn’t commit. Accused of plagiarizing their last dreamfolk humorcore concept album from an adjacent galaxy run by a dictator A.I who dabbles in the arts to take the edge off, Molnolm was forced to flee the lime-flavoured light. Self-isolated in a roving crystal caravan with nobody to tickle their ivories, they pass the clowndays mentally creating secret masterpieces of sound, spitefully aware that these will go forever unheard by any fickle fanbase. Their forehead is branded with their sentence, which is either a small fine or a severe amount of time to spend in a subatomic digi-gulag.