“Come on, Pink,” Nick said as Pinky staggered toward him. “What do you think you’re going to do in that condition? You can hardly walk.”
Pinky pointed his revolver at him and staggered closer. In the background, Hats tried to swat at Pogo like a fly with his fist-bazooka. He wasn’t able to hit him, but the hit man wasn’t able to get past him, either.
“You never told me,” Pinky said. “Why’d you flip?”
Nicky ducked behind cover, hiding behind a carousel elephant.
“Because I wasn’t going to rot in jail for no one,” Nick said.
Nick fired a bullet in Pinky’s direction but didn’t even come close.
“You couldn’t do a little time for the family?” Pinky asked. “What kind of clown are you?”
Pinky shot at him. A collection of poppies grew from the wooden elephant’s neck.
“The kind that never gets what’s owed to him,” Nicky said. “Do you know how many times I’ve been passed up for promotion? It’s been years. I’ve put in my time. I’ve given my life to the Bozos. And what do they give me? A big fat wad of nothing. I’m only repaying the favor.”
Pinky fired another round at Nick. Carnations sprouted from the wooden pony behind him.
“You’ve been passed by because you don’t do a good job,” Pinky said. “You’re lazy. You don’t try hard enough.”
“What do you know, kid? I’ve tried plenty. It’s all just a popularity contest. They promote blood relatives, in-laws, people they owe favors to. They don’t promote guys like me.”
As Nick spoke, Pinky reloaded his revolver, losing half his bullets in the process. The more he moved, the worse his wounds were getting. He felt like he was going to keel over at any minute.
Nick continued, “And yesterday when Spotty said that you were going get made before me? That was the final straw. The Bozo Family can go to Hell if they promote some half-clown son of a whore before me.”
Pinky raised his revolver, aimed it at a part of Nick’s lower spine that was exposed beneath the elephant’s ear. “It doesn’t matter whether you get promoted or not. If you rat out the family, you’ve got to die.”
The revolver fell to the ground. Pinky attempted to squeeze the trigger, but he no longer had the strength. He tried to pick it up but his legs gave out under him. He fell to his knees.
When Nick saw his state, he came out from behind cover and kicked Pinky’s revolver away. Then he chuckled as he pointed his gun at the half clown.
“You’re right,” Nick said. “But remember: You’re the rat here. Not me. At least that’s how the family sees it.”
Pinky looked up at him. He could barely speak anymore.
Nick continued, “So if you say that a rat has to die then a rat has to die. Preferably by suicide.”
Taffy screamed through her gag as the gunshot rang out. The depressor bullet hit Pinky in the gut and flooded his body with chemicals. He looked up at Taffy. Tears flowed down his cheeks.
“You should be feeling the effects by now,” Nick said. “Your mind should be overwhelmed with a sense of utter despair. In less than a minute, you’ll have no choice but to end your own life.”
Pinky pulled out his knife.
“That’s it,” Nick said. “Now cut your own throat. That would be a quick way to end it all.”
Pinky looked up at Nick and smiled.
“Hey, why the hell are you smiling?” Nick asked.
Nick shot him again. But even with a double dose of depressors, Pinky wouldn’t stop smiling. He pointed his knife at Nick.
“What are you doing?” Nick asked. “You’re supposed to use that on yourself.”
Pinky pulled himself back to his feet.
“What the hell’s going on?” Nick cried. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Pinky staggered back for a moment, but then he took another step forward, the smile beaming from his face.
“Why are you still standing?”
Pinky raised the knife and kept coming at him.
“There’s no way,” Nick said, shooting him one more time. “Nobody can withstand that many depressor bullets.”
But what Nick didn’t realize was that Pinky Smiles was just too damn happy. Even after all he’d been through in the past twenty-four hours, Pinky still held on to his positive attitude. No amount of depressors in the world could wipe that off his face.
“It’s impossible…”
Even after he reached Nick and drove the blade deep into the rat’s belly, Pinky was still smiling—not because he got his revenge on Nick, but because he was thinking about how much he loved Taffy Bozo. He was thinking about what his day would’ve been like if he’d never gotten the black joker card, if everything had gone just as he imagined it. The thought of Taffy Bozo agreeing to marry him was enough to drive off any sorrow he could possibly face.