Reconstructive surgery on the left ear did not go as well as the doctors had hoped.
This mildly frightening clown head was the first thing looking at me when I went down the stairs into the basement. How long had he been sitting there, with his shattered ear and dully bemused expression? I wonder what sentiments the previous occupants had attached to this horrible bust. They must have been strong enough to feel obligated to keep this thing on a prominent shelf. It’s value was limited, however, as the clown did not make the final cut. He has since been trashed out.
Is this the Palliacci clown? Nobody likes him.
Evil Trees stalking you, then Twilight-type clowns appearing to stare you down….What will be next in your exciting adventures?