How to Treat Clown Bites Effectively
We all know and love clowns. Whether under our beds or in the crawl spaces beneath our homes, they possess the twisted, grimacing faces that we rely upon for terror and tricks. But what to do about an accidental clown boo-boo?
As always, I’m here with the facts. Here’s what you should do if you or a family member are found between the toothy jaws of one of these creatures:
Consider the clown first:
- Identify the species of clown. Not all clowns are venomous. Here’s a quick trick: ask for an ID card. If it was born before 1850, it’s not “clowning around,” and has enough venom in its veins to destroy at least 12 people — ironically, this was the average family size in 1850*. Furthermore, the “bad clowns” tend to exhibit very obvious fangs, which drip with blood.
Fast fact: Most families in the early 19th century experienced the deaths of many children and elderly people. This is likely due to the lack of clown control during the era. Also, healthcare sucked.
2. Understand your clown. Do not paint each clown with the same overladen makeup brush. Have a heart to heart. Chances are, it just wants your soul, not your left calf.
3. After identifying the species you’re dealing with and its cravings, it’s time for some self-care. Your clown deserves self-love. Encourage it to build spider webs out of cotton candy and to catch rats with its yellowed claws. Praise it!
4. Tuck your clown gently into a suitable resting place within its natural habitat. Mausoleums, cornfields, and pretty much any abandoned lot in Detroit will do. Damp leaves usually make an agreeable bed-time blanket.
Think about the bitten ones:
- If the clown in question is non-poisonous, Neosporin will do.
- If you suspect the clown is poisonous, embrace the lifestyle. When bitten by a venomous clown, the “victim” becomes a clown. Note that it is natural for clowns to bite, and this behavior is never the fault of the clown. If you’ve received a bite, try comforting yourself by hanging out near rusty carousels or lapping from rotten puddles near failing malls. Be proud of the clown within. Bite, don’t fight!
Disclaimer: I hate clowns because my old babysitter had a lot of toy clowns on the wall. They glared at me daily. No offense to clowns. Also, I am not endorsed by any clowns. Furthermore, I am a terrible editor when not paid for my work; please excuse any typos.
