Pennywise pov
Autumn was arriving unhurriedly; the sun still lazily warmed the sloped roofs of Derry, while the newsstands already showcased the fresh press editions from October fourteenth, nineteen seventy-four. Blaring from the front pages of the Daily News were headlines about the racial riots in Boston over school desegregation busing and the squabbling in Washington following Jaworski's resignation. Out there, the massive human anthills fought furiously among themselves. Important people, or so they fancied themselves, hastily enacted laws, dividing their own kind by skin color or roots.
Pathetic.
In the distance, on the shop stalls, vegetables and late fruits were rotting. To him, human food smelled of decay. And yet, this world drew him in.
Previously, It simply hadn't noticed such trivialities.
The streets were crowded. It tilted its head slightly to the side, studying the throng: the fleeting legs of little children, chirping with happiness or sorrow without a drop of fear; the hulking shadows of their parents; women hurrying somewhere; and the heads of men bobbing in time with their steps. Everything here seemed too simple and bland. Human emotions floated everywhere — bitter, sweet, sour... and unbearably inedible to it right now. It turned up its nose in disdain and grimaced, sensing this surrogate.
Whenever Pennywise wakes up off-cycle, It becomes one angry-ass chihuahua
