Check the cotton candy before you eat it. Only real, authentic Killer Klown, cloud-like confections have a meaty filling, fortified by dissolving humans, which packs a protein punch. Everything else is an imitation. Also, when the pie hits your eye while you’re looking at the sky, that’s amore. It’s also the final scene in Killer Klowns from Outer Space (1988), one of my favorite movies, made even better with a swig or two of Sugarlands Cotton Candy Moonshine.
There’s nothing I like better, when the chilly autumn air menaces, than to curl up into a cotton candy cocoon and think about why I love this movie so much. The clowns really do the heavy lifting here, as they’re everything you’d expect a creepy clown to be—and so much more. Can they create balloon animals that come to life in spectacularly awful ways? Yes! Can they suddenly deliver pizzas and chocolate at your door—and then kill you with a ray gun that creates a toxic cotton candy chamber of death? Why, yes. Yes, they can. Can they outsmart a street gang and magically make crowds shrink with masterful hand shadow puppetry? Amazingly, yes! Can they escape the crafty Sergeant Curtis Mooney? Of, course. All it takes is a water-squirting flower trick, followed by a reach-through-the-jail-bars trick to smash Mooney’s head.
But let’s not underestimate the classic “lovers’ lane” horror trope that sets the wheels of the clown car in motion. At the start of the movie, two teenagers find themselves on the outskirts of Crescent Cove, enjoying a glass of wine (as wild teenagers are wont to do) and gazing at the stars from a yellow rubber raft in the trunk of the car. Their names, Mike Tabacco and Debbie Stone, were most likely drawn from a hat during a wild and drunken afternoon under the bleachers during fifth period. In any case, they’re the first to spot a blazing object in the sky, which actually turns out to be a giant Big Top spaceship filled with blood thirsty, twisted clowns—the kind you don’t have to pay for. They just show up, hungry. For you. Instead of offing Tabacco and Stone after their make-out scene, the writers/producers allow them to live and save the world—along with Dave Hanson the seriously handsome police officer, who also happens to be Debbie’s ex-boyfriend. Later, in a stunning turn of events, it appears that Mike is okay with being the third wheel in this relationship.
It’s also interesting to note that killing a Killer Klown is as plain as the giant red nose on its face. You can just pop it with a sharp object and the whole thing falls apart, which is a good thing to remember the next time the circus comes to town.
Recently, I’ve discovered that watching this movie while sipping Sugarlands Cotton Candy Moonshine is just the clown car ride I didn’t know I needed until now. Warning: It looks like cleaning fluid and smells like hand sanitizer, but do not be afraid. That pulsing, ‘80s synthesized movie track that echoes the giant steps of the clowns is enhanced by the sweet, sweet nectar of vanilla and carnival dreams. It tastes exactly like cotton candy melting in your mouth. You can almost picture a thousand disintegrating faces behind a film of spun sugar. It warms the heart, the soul, and the inner child that screams at clowns and runs for the exit.
Cheers!
Cecilia Kennedy once paired a viewing of Cocaine Shark with Snoop Dogg’s 19 Crimes red wine and never looked back. She’s a writer and editor living in the Greater Seattle area, who publishes mostly horror fiction, but also humor. Her works have appeared in The Daily Drunk, Tiny Molecules, Kandisha Press, DarkWinter Press, Maudlin House, Flash Fiction Magazine, Rejection Letters, 365 Tomorrows, Molotov Cocktail, and more. You can find her on X (@ckennedyhola) and Instagram (@ceciliakennedy2349) and her DIY Humor blog: https://fixinleaksnleeksdiy.blog/
