Dear Creepypasta [#Wattys2016]

Wait for the punchline

Last year I worked the best job in the world. I was a cast member at a local haunted house. It doesn't sound glamorous, and it's not, but it was the single most gratifying job I've ever held. If I could do it year-round, I would. Getting paid to scare the shit out of people with no repercussions? Yahtzee. Even better, I was assigned to the Clown Room. It's exactly what it sounds like. For six weeks leading up to October 31st, I would spend my weekends in a darkened room wearing clown makeup. Patrons would come through, I'd jump out, they'd scream and run, good times were had by all. At the end of the first weekend, the house manager Ted - we called him the Hauntmaster - pulled the clowns aside. He handed us each our paychecks for the week. Nobody else had gotten this treatment, so I was a bit nervous that we were about to get chewed out.

"Do you guys know how many people walked out of the haunt tonight talking about the fucking clowns?" Ted asked. He was a brick wall, I couldn't read him.

"I dunno," said Jeff, one of the other clowns. He called himself 'Fuckles' once the facepaint went on. "Five? Ten?"

"We weren't keeping track of how many people came through, Ted," said Mike, the largest of us. He carried a large bone as a prop.

"We had over two hundred guests this weekend. Not our best opening numbers, but it's early. I try to keep track of what people say on their way out, good or bad," said Ted.

"Just tell us already," said Gwen. She was small and flexible, so she'd had them build a big jack-in-the-box special just so she could pop out of it with a big prop knife.

"Of the guests that came through this weekend, well over a hundred people mentioned being scared to shit in the clown room. I ended up losing count. You guys are damn near killing people from the sound of things," said Ted.

"That's what you pay us for," I said. I tried to put on a sarcastic smile, but I was a bit nervous. The others had been doing this for a few seasons now, and I was the new guy. I didn't want to accidentally overstep my boundaries, but at the same time I wanted to fit in.

"Damn right," said Ted, "That's why I'm switching things up a bit this year. You guys have the Clown Room, you can set that shit up however you want. I know Gwen's got her box, but the rest of you can feel free to change things up in there at your discretion."

"We were already kind of doing that," said Mike, "I put a hole in the wall with my bone earlier. Shouldn't be using such cheap wood, if you ask me."

"I'll have one of the guys patch that up for you," said Ted. "But listen, it's not just that you can mess around with your room. I'm giving you guys run of the haunt."

"For real?" asked Jeff. He looked shocked and excited all at once.

"For real." said Ted. He patted Mike on the shoulder and walked away without another word. I just looked at the others, confused. They all looked like little kids at Christmas.

"What does 'run of the haunt' mean?" I asked. I felt like someone's kid brother, tagging along with the older kids to try and seem cool.

"Run of the haunt," said Gwen, wrapping her arm around my shoulder, "Means we get to do whatever we want." My heart rate picked up a bit. Gwen was easily the hottest girl at the haunt, and I have to admit I had more than a little crush on her.

"I still don't follow," I said, somehow managing to keep my eyes on her face.

"I means we were just given carte blanche to do as we please. No boundaries, no borders. You want to chase someone through the whole haunt calling them a pickle salesman? Go for it. You want to bust down a whole wall like the fucking Kool-Aid man? Have at it. Just as long as you don't get your dick out in front of some kids or violate the Geneva Conventions, the world's your damn oyster," said Mike.