[ WP ] You have 24 hours to fake your death in the most spectacular way possible . You have $ 1 million in cash and 40 circus workers dedicated to you .

Thought this said killing myself, not faking my death. Oops. Posting story anyway because fuck you. 
 
 “ Meep meep ” I hear from down the road. A car, 3 feet tall, pulls up in front of me. I stand up from the bench I am sitting on as the oh so familiar blue curls of the man that walks out of the car give me a bittersweet feeling. “ You ’ re a miracle worker Schlambo, ” I say to the head of the clowns. “ I don ’ t know what I ’ d do without you. ” I slip him a stack of 100s and tell him to buy the gang some lunch, he then leans against the car, stuffing the money down his pocket. I look at the nearest camera, it doesn ’ t matter which one, because I know they ’ re watching. Whatever they want, they won ’ t get from me, because I won ’ t be there. I nod at Schlambo, and he kicks the car with his heel. Two large clowns carrying several poles make their way out of the car, with a slightly plumper, shorter clown dragging a large tarp follows behind. I ask Schlambo for the ringleader. Schlambo scratches the stubble on his cheek and gives the car 3 good kicks. Alex comes out. I sit him down the bench I was on earlier, and we begin to talk about the show. 
 “ You obviously have n't been told about the plan, have you? ” I say to the Flying Flimbo. “ I can ’ t get out of my cannon, I swear! Can ’ t you get another one? ” He cries. I look at Schlambo, who is a few feet away, leaning on the car. He gives a very strong kick to the car, leaving the car wobbling for a few seconds. After the wobbling ceases, Schlambo honks a comical horn, and a muscled, tattooed, and quite hairy lady squeezes out of a car, in her hand a short leash that she uses to drag a lion around by it ’ s neck. The bearded lady stands in front of Flimbo. “ Three hours until showtime, ” I say. “ Please, leave me be, this is MY cannon! ” Flimbo pleads. I nod at the lady. She pulls out the Flying Flimbo from his cannon, exposing his horribly disfigured legs, and begins to drag him off somewhere else. I give the lady a couple hundred as I push the cannon into place. 
 The lights dim, as crowds of babbling children and gossiping mothers are silenced. The spotlight turns on and points to Alex. “ Today, you will be guided through stunts and thrills, terror and laughter, and all of the other emotions on the spectrum with me! Alexander the glorious! I will show you people defying death himself, walking on the border oblivion, crying for the end, then gliding away! You will see acts of bravery, stupefying stunts, we will make magic! The first of which that we shall see, is the crazy cult of our very own clowns! ” The room fills with light once again. Backstage, Schlambo drops his cigarette on the floor. I kick his unicycle to him as I button up by meaningless helmet. Schlambo doesn ’ t react, and remains stationary. 
 The final act. I get in my cannon, and three clowns push me to the center of the entire tent. I am faced directly up, and Alex gives his speech. I try to follow where the fuse is going with my eyes to make sure it is going with the plan. Alex ’ s speech ends, and I scream: “ This is for you, *fuckers*! ” The next thing I know, I am launched up in the air, through the tarp. I look down and see the tarp in a blaze, people trying to run with their precious lives, but stopped by clowns guarding the exits. “ *THIS* IS WHAT THE PLAN WAS! ” I hear Alex scream from inside the burning tent. I smile as I start to descend to my death. 
 Schlambo, leaning against the car, which is parked on the curb a good distance away, calls someone on his phone. “ He ’ s dead, ” he says in his gravelly voice. 

