(C) Daily Kos This story was originally published by Daily Kos and is unaltered. . . . . . . . . . . Recalculation [1] ['Dan K', 'Thom Hartmann', 'Black Kos'] Date: 2026-09-08 Jess the Clown had had enough. More than enough. He was broke, in debt, and out of inspiration, energy, time, and patience. He was deeply depressed, and he had a gun, a heavy old revolver that his father had used to shoot wolves in the wonderful outdoor life that he would never have survived, his father had said, and didn’t in any way deserve, as he had also said, repeatedly. The gun and a box of ammunition was the only thing his father had left him when he died. That, and the sort of reputation that made it unwise to linger long in large parts of the country. Their family was well known as bad news, and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and all that. Now the Caper Carnival was on the verge of bankruptcy, and his boss had made him sign all the receipts. He’d loaded the gun and was going to declare bankruptcy himself, the cheapest way he knew how. He sat behind the scenes and put the gun down on a shelf by his side, crowded with performer’s junk. He hesitated for a moment, staring straight ahead. He’d never been dead before and he suspected he might enjoy it. It would be a change, anyway. Unless he ended up in Hell, in which case he’d be right at home. Shaking, his vision blurring a bit, he reached to his side and groped for the gun. It was heavy in his hand. He didn’t dare look at it. He raised it to the side of his head and with his eyes tight shut, pulled the trigger. There was an earsplitting crack, but…. nothing else? He sat rigid, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t rigor mortis. He still felt the weight of the gun in his hand, and his ass hurt too much from the stupid wooden stool he was on. Death seemed to be curiously inconsequential. He’d expected at least to fall over and bleed on the ground and embarrass his employer one last time. But nothing seemed to have happened at all. He opened his eyes as a cloud of confetti settled around him. He’d picked up the wrong gun. He’d tried to kill himself with a joke gun, one that shot sparkles and pink dust and gold confetti in all directions. Then he smiled. He picked up the real gun and carefully unloaded it. A pawnshop would give him enough for it for a ticket out. And when the creditors couldn’t find him, they’d be after his employer fast enough. Wasn’t that what he had wanted from death? To be gone? But he’d die one day anyway. It could wait. Meanwhile, there were other ways to disappear. He left, smiling, brushing glitter off his shoulders. He’d pawn his death for a bit more life, and have the last laugh on them all. [END] --- [1] Url: https://www.dailykos.com/stories/2026/9/8/800095115/community/recalculation/ Published and (C) by Daily Kos Content appears here under this condition or license: Site content may be used for any purpose without permission unless otherwise specified. via Magical.Fish Gopher News Feeds: gopher://magical.fish/1/feeds/news/dailykos/