The clowns left town around 9:30 in the morning. They were leaving Manitoba Canada to get to a gig in Salem Mass. So they packed up their GEO Metro and began the journey. This was their passion and profession.
The group of 4 clowns never made it. They're plush rubbery clown noses were their down fall. Not a single one could smell the danger. A pickle bucket full of gasoline lay in wait in the back of the hatchback. Needless to say, this wasn't an accident. It was murder. The assailant knew these clowns were chain-smokers. It was only a matter of time.
Four clowns dead. As Molesto "The Scary Clown" lit his cig the whole car erupted in flames. These clowns were stars, now they were "literally" stars. Like mini-supernovas with flaming appendages covered in melting rubber hoping for death, none of the deaths were quick.
As the gathered mass watched on, they all began to smile. Then to laugh out loud. They knew the clowns would want it that way. To go out with a laugh.
Of course the other half of the town was laughing because these clowns , a staple of the community for years, were bad. The other group of people were members of a generation of adults that had been repeatedly fondled by the clowns at an early age. The memory remains and now Karma and perhaps vengeance has taken over.
So the moral of the story is, if a clown dies just think of them as a child molester. It's just easier on you.