It was 4:30 pm, everyone was still in the building, they could hear the crowd chanting outside. Suddenly, windows were broken and doors began to swing open, the mob entered the main chamber, and to Mike’s surprise, the gathered crowd were all ancient, as in, easily over 80, and loud, so loud and surprisingly aggressive, with their arms raised and their voices loud and their balls swinging. Hang on, why were they all naked? Mike averted his eyes just in time to avoid seeing his mother swinging a pair of apples around in a sling. Just when he was about to ask what she was doing; he saw his grandfather there also.

“But that's impossible,” he said to himself, “he's being dead for thirty years.”

Then there were floppy shoes and silly string all over the floor. Mike looked at what he thought were fig rolls, but turned out to be the bruised balls of his 'dead' grandfather.

Mike laughed. If he wasn't dead before he was now. "Am I?" he heard a voice from behind him. It was his grandfather clowned up to the nines. Mike felt something at the back if his spine. he prayed it was a gun. I guess you could say there was resurrection down clown.

(Latest joint effort from my writing group, this time with me, Amanda Steel , Anthony Briscoe , Antonia Fusaro and Reggie Agulha where we took it in turns writing a line or a little bit each. A fine time was had by all)