'Welcome to the city of lost parents - we will take care!' says the sign.
“I don’t know if we’re doing the right thing. Will they really be happy here?” I ask as we watch rabbits fester through torn tents.
A lady screams and something with curls, a red nose, and lots of white face paint chases her down the street on stilts.
“I already told you, the whistling deer head said they’ll be taken care of. I bet that lady was playing with the clown.”
“I don’t know. Perhaps we should just let them go in the country,” I say and turn to our duct taped parents in the backseat.
“It’s too late,” Greg says as the clowns open the passenger doors and snatch our parents away.
*Some of you will recognize this work previously published on my six sentences blog site . Thanks for reading again!The blog is going wonky. Sorry if the colors are strange and disturbing.
