Lavender «LeafyCynical Oneshots»

Coulrophobia

It was eleven at night when Calvin was driving home. He needed some groceries and had gone to the nearby Fresh Market without hesitation. He had only needed a few, necessary things. Milk, cheese, sour cream, and butter. But somehow four items turned into twelve. But fuck off, the steak was on sale, and the vanilla cream soda looked delicious as fuck. Okay, sure, maybe that alcohol wasn't necessary, but Fresh Market had good ass sales. Calvin was a slut for sales.

Having flicked his headlights on already, he pulled out of the parking lot. His apartment wasn't far away, about fifteen minutes. But, to get there in fifteen minutes, he had to take some creepy ass backroad. In the daytime, it was alright. Little Calvin would've shit his pants by now, but what's the worst that could happen? He had a fucking car. Some guy with a chainsaw won't scare him. If worst comes to worst, he could just run them over. Taking a left at the stoplight, he headed down the dark road. It was pitch black, except for his headlights that allowed him to see. Calvin, still feeling unsettled, tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He felt uncomfortable, and the mere thought of somebody watching him gave him the fucking chills.

Glancing over at the built-in clock that his fancy ass car had, he saw it was eleven twenty, and he'd probably be back at his apartment around eleven thirty.

Looking back at the road, he froze. His foot moved to the breaks, and the car pulled to a stop. About thirty feet ahead, there was a figure just standing there. Not moving, just standing in the middle of the fucking road at eleven at night.

Calming his nerves, he drove closer to the figure, in hopes of only passing by however was on the road. It was probably a prank, a joke set up by eighteen-year-olds looking to troll somebody. As his car drew closer, he could make out what the figure was.

Calvin's previously calm demeanor snapped, as he finally got a look at what the tall figure dressed as.

Face painted a pure white; a large, red grin was spread across the clown's face, apparently some red face paint. It was a clown, a little clown. So why was Calvin having a hard time breathing?

His breath came in short pants, and darkness crept into the corners of his sight. Blood pounded in his ears, blocking out the worried yells of people in the woods. He could hear his heartbeat, unsteadily pumping blood much faster than it should. Eventually, he fell limp in his seat.

-

His eyes opened to a bright light being shined in his face. His eyelids closed immediately, shying away from the light in his eyes. He heard relieved sighs around him, but last Calvin remembered, he was driving home. He could still see the bright light behind his eyelids, and he swallowed, trying to wet his dry throat with something. He gathered up enough strength to speak, "Get that light out of my fucking face; you retarded fucks." In any other situation, Calvin would've tried to be nicer, but he honestly didn't care right now.

He opened his eyes; this time met with the night sky. Just when he thought he was either hallucinating or tripping fucking hard, a strong British voice came from beside him, "We thought you were dead for a second, mate," The voice stated, tinged with relief. Turning his head to the side, Calvin saw an adorable baby face. Calvin had a bad habit of saying whatever shit he thought, and so the first thing he said to this 'man' who had probably saved his life was, "Who is this lesbian and how tight is her pussy, goddamn."

He heard howling laughter erupt from around him, except the lesbian who looked more annoyed than anything. "I take that any kind words I had to say back, please proceed to drown yourself in the nearest sink and save us the misery of your pathetic existence," The gender-questioning-'man' said.

Well, that fucking hurt.

Deciding to not pick any arguments over the 'mans' very ambiguous gender, Calvin opted for a question instead. "The fuck happened?" The moment he said this, Calvin remembered what happened. Clowns, his lack of breath, night sky, the hot lesbian who he wanted to fuck harder than Scarlett Johansson. "Oh." Was the word to leave his mouth. A Russian accent came from his right, "Yeah. Oh. Sorry for the prank, mate. If we'd known you'd have a Vietnam flashback, we would've waited for somebody else."

Not exactly a heartfelt apology, but Calvin could accept it.

He picked himself off the pavement and immediately saw three faces. A dirty blonde who looked high, the hot lesbian, and a fat feminist who had a pathetic pre-beard. Whether they were going to help him or rape him was questionable, but Calvin figured if they wanted his bootyhole they'd have taken it by now. Coughing awkwardly, he started backing away to his still-running car. "Thanks for not leaving me to die...-" As he was about to open the car door, he heard that same Russian accent. "Mate, we wanted a favor."

It always came with a fucking favor.

Sighing, Calvin turned around, "What? Papa Calvin doesn't have any weed or shit." The look on their faces was enough to make Calvin laugh. The blonde one finally spoke up, "Give the lesbian boy one date."

-

Calvin ran around his messy room, cursing all the while. Searching for his snapback turned out to be a challenge with his mess of a room, but he had to meet Niall in thirty minutes. Finally finding it buried under his covers, Calvin sighed in relief and grabbed his keys. He ran down the stairs as quickly as he could, finally making it to the first floor of his apartment. Waving to the kind woman in the lobby, Calvin walked out of the automatic doors. Finding his car parked up front, he shivered against the chill air, unlocking his car before pulling the door open. Checking his clock in the car, Calvin pulled out of the parking lot. He had twenty minutes left, and with any luck, he wouldn't be late.

-

Calvin opened the doors to the coffee shop, instantly walking towards the paintbrush hairstyle of his boyfriend. He sat down in the familiar red booth, before trying to figure out a good excuse for being late. After stumbling over his words, Niall seemed to take pity on him and cut in.

"Love, it's okay."

A relieved sigh and a smile were what Niall got in return.

-

Hey guys, Slime here. I'm so, so sorry if this is shit, but at the time of writing this, my hands were in immense pain from a rash, so I rushed it. I proofread it, but not much more honestly. Also, I would've posted this earlier, but I had to clean out my closet, which took three fucking hours. So this is a little late, I usually post my Oneshots around one or two, not six, but that'll have to do. My rashy hands are starting to hurt a little again, so allow me to end this dull authors note.

Thanks for reading, tell me if I did anything wrong (this entire Oneshot was wrong) or I if I did anything right (this Oneshot sucked nothing is good with it). See you next week!