What the hell did he mean he had gotten rid of the damned boxers, and he couldn't leave because his pants were in here, I thought to myself in a daze. Where the hell could the stupid clowns have gone, and what did that have anything to do with his pants being locked in here with me; if they even really are, I rolled my eyes. I still had a bit of a feeling he was trying to get me to leave my safe place so he and his gang of clowns could descend upon me.
I hazily see a pair of jeans that are not mine on the vanity. They have to be his, right? Well, yes of course they do, I thought, looking around the bathroom once more, rather quickly but still very thoroughly I was acting almost as if I thought someone was gonna come popping out from under the sink, looking very clown-like, and claiming
