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Imagine working as a clown, and you're absolutely bombing your performance. You're juggling your balls all over the floor, you're slipping on your own little clown props, you're honking your little nose without even meaning to. And no one is laughing. There's only one person in the audience. His clown makeup is far more handsom than yours. His purple suit is tight, leaving nothing to the imagination. He green hair. The Joker walks over, leans over your frail clown body, sneering. "Not very funny," he chuckles darkly. You honk meekly, presenting your Clown Hole in submission as you are overwhelmed by his superior clown pheromones and musk. And then. And then he pulls it out. He pulls out his j

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