I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But I'm about to swing for the fence here, if you don't mind.

And Then They Saw the Elephant

Episode 2

Dora Ross Makes a Sandwich

Twisty the Clown stood the most opulent room he'd ever set eyes upon. It was huge, like a ballroom and filled with play toys and odd combinations of frivolity only the rich can afford.

And in walked Dandy Mott.

A full grown man with a pigeon-toed walk and stuffy prep clothing and the perpetual pout of ten year old spoiled brat.

Twisty just stared.

He'd heard the peevish screaming from the stairs.

And known in some dim memory corner of his mind that if he'd ever yelled at his mother that way, she beaten him black and blue.

As he would have well deserved.

And now before him stood a grown man, with blood on his forehead and the murder in his eyes slowly melting away into wonder and amazement.

The primly dressed, clearly unhinged mother behind him was smiling as if she'd gone to meet the Queen.

And Twisty knew he was in the belly of the beast of madness.

"You can do whatever you want with him!" the crazy woman trilled cheerfully. "I'll leave you two alone."

The mother closed the double doors and Twisty gripped his bag of childish delights a fraction of an inch tighter.

But then as the pigeon-toed baby boy advanced on him, and Twisty got a closer look at him, he slowly released his grip on the bag in shock and dismay.

Something was definitely wrong with this person.

"I will be the king and you will be Anna."

Twisty the Killer Clown dutifully sat on the divan, watching the grown man playing with marionettes.

He was really creeped out.

The delusional creature rambled on and on, finally leaving the stage and coming toe to pigeoned-toe with him.

And demanded a performance.

Twisty knew his time had come.

The trick was to pick the right moment.

"Pick a toy. Show me what kind of clown you really are!" the psychotic man boy directed.

I'm the best clown.

So he went to choose his crackerjack box prize from amongst the dolls and various sundries that lay forgotten within the white painted toybox.

As the spoiled princeling rudely riffled through his, his, bag of goodies.

And when he tossed aside The Juggling Pins of Jocularity, Twisty knew the time had come.

He picked one up and whapped the freak across the back of the head. When the boy collapsed, he grabbed The Shears of Whimsy and stabbed him over and over again until he was good and dead.

Then the relieved clown wiped the bloody shears on a clean section of the dead man's white pants leg and stood up.

He went downstairs to the parlor where the mother was reading a paper.

She stood anxiously as he came in.

"Are you all done playing already?"

He walked right up to her and because she had raised and doted on the sick monster who lay dead and bloody upstairs, he stabbed her in the gut with The Shears of Whimsy.

She gasped and gurgled, collapsing upon the Oriental rug in gouts of blood that covered the filthy suit of the masked clown.

When she was also still and very much dead, he carefully stuffed the shears into his bag and tightened the drawstring.

And looked up.

A dark skinned older woman in a maid outfit was staring at him, her oval eyes wide and alarmed.

"Is she . . . dead?"

He answered her query with his lifeless eyes.

"Is . . . is he dead?"

He did not blink or change countenance.

She took a deep, trembly breath and let it out slow, her entire body relaxing from years, decades, of tension.

"Oh Sonny, I've been wantin' to do that for the longest time. Thank you."

She took in the gory scene again, cast her eyes up to the ceiling, and finally back to him.

Her entire face was a question.

"Are you gonna kill me next?"

He took a step back from her.

She studied him for moment, then patted her hair, and smoothed the front of her white apron.

"Good. Wait here."

He did and she retreated back through the swinging door into the kitchen.

He stood where he was, enveloped by the tangy scent of fresh blood in the air and justice served for bad boys and their doting mothers.

The woman returned in less than five minutes with a brown paper bag in one hand.

When she spoke, her tone was collected and assured.

"Better get going, Sonny, 'cause I'm about to call the cops and tell them a crazy clown just killed my employer and her son."

Then she handed him the bag. He carefully took it and opened it. A whaff of roast beef greeted him as he inspected the contents.

A sandwich, wrapped up in white paper. And a generous spear of dill pickle.

He looked up and she could have sworn that his dead eyes smiled at her.

Just a little.

Then he walked out the back door toward the woods and she watched him go.

Dora Ross stayed still for a second or two longer, looking around at the carnage grimly and glancing back up at the ceiling.

"Damn, I'm gonna have to get a new job."

Then she headed to the kitchen to make the phone call to the police station.

Yes, yes, another AHSFS fic, hush. ;)

Anyway, this one's going to be a little different. We'll be bouncing around the episodes, focusing on different characters, leaping in and out of scenes like cucoos on clocks here. Or that guy from Quantum Leap.

Sometimes the changes will be for the better, sometimes for the worse. Sometimes they'll just be changes. Sometimes they'll be funny. Sometimes they'll be dark and depressing.

And all the chapters will be completely unrelated to one another.

I'm planning on running the gambit here and I'll let you decide what you think, okay?

So, who wants in?

Everybody appreciates feedback. Leave a review if you like.