Alyssa Lopez

His red hair brushed past my face, sending a shiver down my spine. I shuddered. He was staring at me now, his yellow eyes framed by big red circles of paint bore into my soul. I felt his hot breath against my skin. I looked up, he was smirking at me. His teeth barely showing through his very overlined red lips. I wanted to latch mine into his, to have his red face paint spread across my own lips. Now he was leaning towards me, I could see the hairs on his face slicked back by white face paint. I looked down at his big red shoes and thought about the beautiful toes beneath them. I tilted my head up a bit more, coming face to face with the buttons of his yellow jumpsuit. He was closer to my face now. Really close. “Ronald...” He moved in for my lips and I prepared myself. Before they met he tilted his face, his lips near my ear. “The ice cream machine is broken” he whispered huskily. Then he spontaneously combusted. His McDouble heart flew through the air, his organ fries splattered the floor, and his barbecue sauce blood splashed my clothes, soaking me from head to toe. The end.