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Ace of Cups

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“What are you doing out here, Knight?”  A voice hissed in front of him in the fading evening light.
He looked up, the red and white cloth in his hand, at a clown with orange green hair, wearing a puffy purple shirt.  Darrin assumed the reason for the hissing sound the clown made when he spoke was due to the pointy teeth in its mouth.  It held a bucket in his left hand.
“Have you gone deaf, Knight?”  It snapped.
“Sorry,” Darrin replied and stuffed the cloth into his pocket.  “I didn’t…”
“Didn’t what?”  The clown demanded.  “Didn’t know that you are in clown territory without permission?”
“In what?”  Darrin answered looking around at the unfamiliar surroundings.
“In what indeed,” the clown became more agitated.  He put the bucket down and approached Darrin.  Saliva started dripping from the clown’s mouth.  The clown stood face to face with Darrin.  Its breath smelled of rotten eggs and sauerkraut.  “I could rip your throat out with my teeth for this trespass.”  It hissed at Darrin.  “You know the rules.”
Darrin pulled the thin sword from his belt not yet raising it and said.  “Where is Mary, Ace?”
The clown squinted at Darrin.  “She definitely is not out here, Knight.”  It spat emphasizing Knight.  It hissed and moved forward, it’s soft, overstuffed belly pushing into Darrin.  “Don’t you think you should be moving on?”
Darrin stared hard into the clowns eyes.  He saw only darkness in them, no color from the iris, just black.  He held tightly to his sword intent on defending himself if he needed.
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