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Laughing Jack: Greetings our beloved creepypasta fans around the entire planet, I believe that you all recognize me known as Laughing Jack The Clown. And I think it's time tell you all about me from previous years. Allow me to explain you all about me. It was a very long, long, long long time ago. It’s Christmas Eve in snowy 1800’s London, England, and in a small house at the edge of town, there lived a lonely, 7-year-old boy named Isaac. Isaac was a sad child with not a friend to his name. While most children were spending time with their families and eagerly looking forward to opening the presents that were placed with care beneath a beautifully decorated Christmas tree, little Isaac spent this most holy of nights alone, in his cold, dusty attic room. Isaac’s parents were very poor, his mother was a strict crow of a woman who stayed at home and schooled Isaac. His father worked long hours down at the London harbour to support his family, although a large portion of his earnings went toward purchasing and consuming copious amounts of alcohol at the end of his shift. Sometimes, he would come home drunk, after being thrown out of every bar in London, and shout at his beloved wife, Isaac’s mother. Which I didn't know who she was,. But I know I'm a imaginary clown, but I know Issac feels and I know how I feel for him.

Occasionally, it would escalate to violence and he would beat her savagely, then when he was done, he’d force himself upon her in a drunken, sexual rage. As it so happens, this particular night was one of those occasions. Isaac just remained quiet, quivering beneath his soiled bed sheets until the screams and loud bangs subsided. Once poor frightened Isaac was finally able to fall asleep, he’d dream of what it would be like to have a friend to play with, so maybe he could laugh and be happy like the other children of London. Luckily for little Isaac, this Christmas Eve marked a big change, when his abysmal loneliness caught the attention of a guardian angel, who then crafted a very special gift for the sad little London boy.

As the sun rose on that Christmas morning, Isaac opened his eyes to find a strange wooden box sitting at the foot of his bed. With eyes widened in awe, he stared at the colorful, hand crafted box, wondering who had left it. He was not used to receiving gifts, especially toys. What little toys Isaac did have were ones he’d found abandoned in the street or washed up in the gutters. Isaac scooted up to the foot of his bed in front of the mysterious box and picked it up with both hands. The box was beautifully painted in colorful styles, with carvings of happy clown faces on the side. There was a tag on the box that simply read “For Isaac.” On the top of the box was an engraved text.

Isaac squinted his eyes as he sounded out the words, “L-laugh-ing-J-Jack-in-a-b-box…” he paused, “…Laughing Jack-in-a-box?” Isaac had heard of a Jack-in-a-box, but never a Laughing Jack-in-a-box. His mind spun with curiosity as he grasped the box’s metal crank. Isaac tuned the crank and the song Pop Goes The Weasel chimed in rhythm with the crank’s gyrations. As the song came to its climax, Isaac sang along with the final verse, “Pop goes the weasel,” but nothing happened. Isaac let out a sigh, “It’s broken…” He placed the box back down on the edge of the bed, and shuffled across his small dusty room to his dresser where he changed out of his soiled sleepwear and into his usual tattered clothes.

Suddenly, Isaac heard a loud rattling noise coming from the bed behind him. He spun around to witness the wooden box violently shaking. Then, without warning, the top of the box swung open and a parade of colorful smoke and confetti bellowed out. Isaac rubbed his eyes in disbelief of what he was seeing. As the smoke cleared, there stood a tall, thin, multicolored clown man, with bright red hair, a swirly, rainbow colored cone nose, and feathery shoulders that sat atop his raggedy and colorful clown outfit.

And there I was. The Technicolor clown spread his arms and excitedly announced, “COME ONE, COME ALL! WHETHER BIG OR SMALL! TO SEE THE BEST CLOWN OF THEM ALL!! The one, the only, LAUGHING JACK-IN-A-BOX!!!”

Isaac’s eyes lit up, “W-Who are you?” he asked.

The colorful carnie stepped down off the bed and with a happy grin said, “I’m glad you asked! I am Laughing Jack, your new friend FOR LIFE! I’m magical, I never get tired of playing, I’m a wiz at the accordion, and I adapt and develop with your own changing personality… In other words, whatever you like, I like!”

Isaac looked up at the mysterious clown man, “W-we’re friends?” he stuttered.

Jack looked at the boy while cocking an eyebrow, “FRIENDS? We’re BEST friends! I was specially created to be YOUR not-so-imaginary friend, Isaac.”

Isaac’s jaw dropped, “You know my name?”

I letted out a whimsical laugh, “Of course I know your name! I know everything about you! So, now that the introductions are out of the way… How would you like to play a game of I Spy?”

Isaac grinned from ear to ear, “REALLY? We can play games? I’d LOVE to! I-… Oh…”

He paused, “I-I cant… I have to go downstairs to see mother for homeschooling and chores…” my smile faded into a look disappointment.

I placed his hand on Isaac’s shoulder and with a warm smile said, “It’s okay! I’ll be waiting right here for you when you get back.” Isaac’s smile returned as he looked up at his new friend. Just then, he heard his mother’s shrill voice calling him from downstairs.

“Well I gotta go! I’ll see you after I’m done, okay Jack?” He said as he headed toward the door.

I smiled, “Absolutely kiddo! Oh, and Isaac!”

Isaac looked back at me, who gave him a wink and said, “You should wear that smile more often. It suits you.”

Isaac grinned happily as he turned and walked out the door.

All day Isaac told his mother about the amazing colorful clown man who came out of a magical box that appeared on the foot of his bed. His mother, however, did not believe a word of it. Finally, he persuaded his mother to follow him up to his room so she could behold me for herself. They walked up the stairs and Isaac swung open the door to his room.

“See mother? He’s right he-…” Isaac paused as he scanned the room that contained neither magical dancing clown man, nor mysterious wooden box. Isaac’s mother was not amused. She gave Isaac a glare so menacing it made his knees weak and his stomach sick.

“B-but mother… he was-“ SMACK! Isaac’s mother delivered onto him a swift, hard smack across his face. His eyes began to tear up, and his lip began to quiver as he could feel himself about to break down.

“YOU STUPID INSOLENT CHILD! How DARE you lie to me about such childish idiocy! Who would want to be friends with a useless worm such as you?! You shall remain in your room for the rest of the evening, and shall receive no dinner… Now what do you say you ungrateful wretch?”

Isaac managed to swallow the knot in his throat in order mutter a reply, “T-thank you m’am.” His mother glared down at him for a moment before leaving the room in disgust.

Isaac kneeled over, burying his face in the side of his bed. Streams of tears ran down his cheeks as he began to weep. “What’s wrong kiddo?” a voice called out. Isaac looked over to the edge of the bed, where I was now suddenly sitting beside him. Feeling bad sorry for the young Isaac.

“Wh-where were you?” Isaac murmured.

I ran my hand through Isaac’s hair to comfort him as I softly replied, “I was hiding… I can’t let your parents see me… Otherwise they won’t let us play anymore.” Isaac wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Look kiddo, I’m sorry I had to hide, but I’ll make it up to you! Because tonight we can play games and have tons of fun!” I said, smiling.

Isaac looked up at his vibrant pal and silently nodded, as a little smile began to form in the corners of his mouth. That night, me and Isaac played so many fun games. With a wave of his hand, I made all of Isaac’s tin solders spring to life and march around the room. Isaac was amazed as he watched his toys move around the room on their own. Then, me and Isaac told each other spooky ghost stories. Isaac asked me if I was a ghost, but I explained that I was more of a cosmic entity, of sorts. At the end of the night, I reached into my pocket and pulled out an assortment of delicious candy. Isaac was in ecstasy when I popped the first colorful treat in my mouth, as it was my first time tasting something so sweet. Isaac had so much fun and laughed so hard that night that things seemed to be finally looking up for little Isaac… At least, until the incident that occurred three months later…

It was pleasantly warm and sunny in London that day, which was a bit of a rarity. So, with the help of a certain not-so-imaginary friend, Isaac was able to finish his chores early and was allowed to go outside and play for a bit. Things started simply enough, the duo were back behind the house playing pirates, when Isaac spotted the neighbors cat sneaking into their garden.

“YEARGH! WE GOT AN ENEMY SPY OFF THE STARBOARD BOW!” Isaac yelled, captivated by fantasy and imagination.

“Yo ho! I’ll gets him Captain Isaac!” Exclaimed first mate like me, in my best hearty pirate accent. My arm stretched out across the garden and snatched the unsuspecting feline, who began to struggle quite vigorously.

“DON’T LET HIM GET AWAY JACKIE, OR I’LL MAKE YE WALK THE PLANK!” Isaac antagonized.

My grip on the cat tightened, and my arms grew and extended like anacondas wrapping themselves around the wily feline as it struggled for dear life. My arms just kept squeezing the animal, pressing the air out of its lungs. As the once dear house pet’s eyes began to bulge out of their sockets, there came a loud SNAP! I quickly released the creature from his grasp as its lifeless furry husk thudded against the ground. There was hush silence as the two observed the cat’s now twisted and mangled corpse. The silence was finally broken by an uproarious laughter… coming from Isaac…. But except for me, when I crushed that innocent cat with my hands, I felt fear, shame, grief and sympathy and sadness in my cosmic heart. I didn't mean to hurt the innocent animal. I was just not thinking straight, even for a clown like me.

“AHAHAHAHA Wow! I guess cats really DON’T have nine lives! AHAHAHA!” Isaac exclaimed nearly teary eyed from laughter.

I began to chuckle as well, but deep down inside of my body,I made a mistake and it was my fault that I killed an innocent animal that meant no harm. “Heh heh. Yeah… But won’t you get in trouble if your mother finds your neighbor’s cat dead in her garden?” Isaac’s laughter quickly subsided.

“Oh no! You’re right! Um… I’ll just… throw it back into the neighbor’s yard?!” Isaac panicked as he grabbed a nearby shovel and scooped up the broken cat cadaver before lobbing it over the fence back into the neighbors yard. They quickly went back inside and up into Isaac’s room.

About an hour later, it came. The ear piercing squawk of Isaac’s mother shrieking his name from downstairs. Neither me nor Isaac said a word as he crept down the stairs alone to face whatever horrible fate was coming to him. I could hear much yelling from downstairs but couldn’t make out what was being said. After about thirty minutes, a teary eyed Isaac ascended the stairs back up into the room and it shocked me to my core.

“Well?” i asked nervously. Isaac just starred at the ground as he spoke, “I… Tried to tell her it was you who hurt the cat… She didn’t believe me… Said you weren’t real…” I frowned sadly, knowing this was all his fault. And he's right. It's my fault I got him in trouble and hurt.

Isaac used his sleeve to wipe away his tears, “I’m being sent off to a boarding school… I’m leaving tonight… and you can’t come with me…”

My face turned to shock, “What?! I-I can’t come? Where will I go?” Isaac said nothing but pointed over at the beautiful colored box from where his friend had originated. And he did what he had to do.

“Back in there? But I won’t be able to get out until…” I paused.

Isaac looked up as his only friend with tears streaming down his face, “Jack… I promise I’ll come back for you as soon as I can!” Jack looked at the box, then back at Isaac.

“And I’ll be right here waiting for you kiddo.” I smiled, as a single tear ran down his cheek. He walked over to the box and, with a puff of smoke, was sucked back in, unable to be free until once again opened.

That night, Isaac was sent off to boarding school. For the first time, I felt what it was like to be lonely. Even when trapped in my box, I was able to see the things going on around it, so each day, i waited for my friend to return, and each day the room grew older and dustier. My one purpose was to be Isaac’s best friend for life, and now I had to wait day after day, month after month, to reunite with my special friend. Isaac’s parents still lived in the house, but never came to the upstairs room. The only time they made their presence known was when I would hear them fighting. Still my life became one of solitude, loneliness, and disappointment. As years went by, my once bright vibrant colors began to fade into a monochrome blur of pitch-black void and stark white emptiness. Trapped all alone… eternal and hopeless. Yep, my colorful rainbow were once part of me, but not anymore. Now I have to live my clowny life with black and white colors and scary looks too.

Thirteen years passed until the night Isaac’s father came home particularly drunk, and got into an argument with his wife, as per usual. Things escalated to physical violence once again, however this time, she didn’t get back up. Isaac’s father had beaten his wife to a dead, bloody pulp and was sentenced to hang at the gallows the next day. With both his parents dead, this meant that the now twenty-year-old Isaac inherited the dusty old house he spent the earlier half of his childhood in. I was quite surprised when I heard my old friend’s footsteps walking up the stairs to the attic room for the first time in thirteen years, however it was not the reunion I had hoped for.

Isaac looked… different. Not only was he older, but he also seemed to posses this odd grim look on his face. No longer was he the hopeful and curious young boy I first met all those years ago. I eagerly awaited Isaac’s releasing him from the prison he had waited in for so many years, but still my box sat there, untouched and unnoticed on a shelf in the corner of the room with all the other dusty, unwanted knick-knacks. Isaac had completely forgotten about his old friend, dismissed as some sort of early childhood fabrication. Surprisingly, this made me feel… nothing. I was hollow, thirteen years of waiting and disappointment left the monochrome clown void of sorrow and self-pity. I remained in my box, colorless and without emotion.

The next day, Isaac went off to work at his job as an upholsterer, doing furniture repairs for the good people of London. I waited in captivity. Hours later, a drunken Isaac returned home and stumbled up the stairs to his room, but this time he had a friend with him. It was a lady friend Isaac had picked up at the bar earlier that evening. She was beautiful, with flowing blonde hair, sapphire blue eyes, and a smile that could make hearts melt. My attention was drawn to Isaac’s guest, “Who is this? A new friend? Why does Isaac need new friends? I thought I was Isaac’s only friend?” I thought to myself from within his hellish confinement. Isaac and his lady friend sat down on the bed and chatted about life in London. Isaac made a joke about the weather and they both laughed.

I hissed with envy over Isaac’s new friend. Isaac and the girl looked deeply into each other’s eyes as they leaned in for a kiss, locking lips with a passionate swirling of tongues in one another’s mouth. I was perplexed by this strange display of affection, for he had never seen kissing before. As the kissing grew more intense, Isaac ran his hand along the girl’s smooth thigh and up her dress, however his guest just brushed his hand away. Isaac was persistent though, and once again ran his hand along her smooth thigh and up her skirt, this time placing his hand upon her silky undergarments. The woman took great displeasure with Isaac’s sexual advancements and pushed Isaac away before delivering a hard smack across his face. Isaac’s eyes darkened as he glared at the woman, his once drunken passion turned into booze-fueled anger. The woman’s heart sped up as she saw Isaac’s face boil with rage. Just like his father and mother from the past.

“STUPID WHORE!” Isaac yelled as he smashed his fist into the girl’s face.

My eyes widened as he witnessed the long streaks of red liquid gushing from the girl’s nose, “What game is this?” my thought, my eyes a virgin to such violent sights. Isaac firmly clutched the girl’s wrist with one hand as he tore her panties off with the other.

The terrified girl tried to fight back, but Isaac was overpowering her. He roughly fondled her breasts, before savagely grabbing her hair and forcing his tongue down the sobbing young woman’s throat, who responded by chomping down as hard as she could on Isaac’s tongue. Jack watched with wide and curious eyes as his old friend released his new playmate and clutched his mouth as it filled with warm, red blood. The frightened girl fell off the bed and dropped down on the floor as she scurried toward the exit. Isaac quickly lurched forward and was able to catch his fleeing plaything by the end of her dress.

Reaching back, he wielded a lead candlestick off the nightstand beside him, and with all of his might bashed in the back of the young woman’s head, which burst open like a ripe watermelon. Thick blood splattered across the room as the girl’s body convulsed on the ground for several seconds, before going completely still. Blood was everywhere, some droplets even managed to get on my box, who was very much enjoying the show. For the first time in thirteen long years, a smile began to creep across my face, and all of a sudden a chuckle escaped my cold lips, then another, and another, until I was cackling and howling with laughter from inside his sealed box. But on the inside, the colorful me would never like this commotion.

“What a wonderfully fascinating game!” I thought, as i watched the motionless girl’s golden blonde hair flow red with blood. Like Carrie White.

As the adrenaline began to mellow, Isaac realized he had to dispose of the body. He picked up the girl’s lifeless corpse and plopped it on the bed, he then left the room closing the door behind him and locking it before leaving the house. He returned almost a full day later and re-entered the room brining with him a metal garbage can and his bag of upholstery tools from work. He then cleared everything off the wooden desk on the wall opposite to the door, and then dragged the bed with bloody corpse into the middle of the room. This not only gave Isaac room to work, but it also gave me a front row seat to the whole spectacle. I watched with a big, unfading grin as Isaac played his new game with the soiled corpse. Once Isaac was all set up, he got to work.

First, he dumped out the contents of his big black tool bag onto the worktable behind him. An assortment of knives, hammers, pliers, and other tools was now laid out before him. His first pick was curved upholstery knife, which he used to carefully skin the body. That skin was then placed on racks to be stretched and turned into leather. Once that was put in place, Isaac then used a handsaw to saw off the arms, legs, and head, disturbing the home of several families of maggots in the process. After filling the garbage can with bleach and other vile chemicals, he submerged the limbs until the meat was stripped from the bones. Isaac fished the bones out of the soupy corpse juice and placed them on the worktable, then in the cover of night, he brought the trash can outside and dumped the rotten remains into the London sewers to be swept away into the harbour.

For the next three days, I watched with wonderment as the inspired Isaac crafted the once human anatomy into a grotesque armchair abomination. The femur was made into the back legs of the chair, while the tibia, with the feet still attached of course, was made into the front chair legs. A wooden frame was used for the base and backing of the chair, however the rim of the backing was crafted using the spinal column. The arm bones were used as the arms of the chair, and were fastened in place by some ribs. This is like Tusk and Frankenstein all over again.

The now leathery flesh was sewn onto the seat and backing of the chair, and the golden blonde hair was braided into a lining for the base. Atop this armchair from hell sat the skull that once belonged to the girl who had the golden blonde hair, the sapphire eyes, and the smile that could melt hearts. Isaac was quite pleased with his work, and Laughing Jack too was impressed by his old playmate’s profound creativity. After that night, Isaac never touched another drop of alcohol again, for he now possessed a much more macabre thirst.

In the following weeks, Isaac made several improvements to his little workshop of horrors. He removed the mattress from the bed and put a row of thick wooden planks in its place, and then he fastened arm and leg restraints to the bottom and sides. This would mean he would be able to entertain his guests for a longer period without them trying any rude escape attempts. Isaac needed only one, final thing before planning another grotesque party. He worked on it for a week straight, hand carving it out of wood.

After a coat of white paint was applied, Isaac’s creation was complete. It was a wooden mask, resembling something one would wear at a Venetian masquerade ball. It had a furrowed brow and a long, troll-like nose, and would allow him to strike fear in the hearts of his beloved guests. With his new face complete and the room transformed into a bloody murder nest, it was finally time for Isaac Lee Grossman to bring home a new playmate.

That following night, I watched as the masked Isaac Grossman stomped up the stairs, carrying with him a large burlap sack with his newest guest writhing within. He dumped the bag out on his torture bed, and out plopped a bound, gagged, and very frightened young boy, probably only five or six years old. Isaac quickly undid the boy’s bindings and held him down as he restrained his hands and feet to the steel bedframe. Tears streamed endlessly down the boy’s helpless little face, as Isaac laid out his tools on the workbench. Isaac returned wielding a pair of rusty pliers, and wasting no time he slid the bottom jaw of the pliers under the boy’s fingernail on his right index finger and clamped it tightly. The child’s eyes quivered as he began muttering through his gag, begging Isaac to let him go. Isaac smirked as he slowly bent the pliers backward, painfully prying off the first fingernail. And I knew that the Issac I knew became a serial killer, like John Wayne Gacy/Pogo The Clown and Ted Bundy. And believe me, I am much worse than Pogo The Clown.

The boy screamed through his gag as he writhed in agony on the wooden boards, his finger beginning to gush with blood. Isaac then moved on to the boy’s middle finger, firmly grasping the nail with the rusty pliers. Once again, he jerked the pliers back, but this time the nail only tore off half way. The boy yelped in pain as his fingers twitched and shot with blood. Clamping the half pried off nail, Isaac gave it another yank. The nail tore off, but not without taking a good deal of skin tissue with it. Even Isaac was a bit rebuffed by this painful sight, unlike the spying Laughing Jack who was cackling with joy at the disturbing action as he watched from within his old dusty box.

Isaac returned to the workbench and swapped the pliers for a large iron hammer. He then made his way to the foot of the torture bed, where with one hand he held down the boy’s left leg. He raised the hammer high above his head as the boy cried and pleaded for mercy through his dirty gag, then with all his might, Isaac slammed the hammer down on to the boy’s bare kneecap, shattering the bone into gravel with a loud CRACK! The child convulsed in pain with shrill screams muffling through the cloth gag tied tightly to his face.

As the child struggled with intense pain, Isaac placed the hammer down on the wooden bed and returned once more to the workbench where he equipped himself with a long sharp knife. Without delay he began carving the words “Useless Worm” into the child’s quivering chest. When he finished the boy was barely conscious. Isaac knelt down and whispered into the boy’s ear, “This is what happens to rotten children who make nasty faces at people…”

The child’s eyes filled with tears one final time as Isaac began to carve the skin off the boy’s face, but to Isaac’s surprise the boy still clung to life. The mutilated child just stared up at Isaac with his big round eyes, which filled Isaac’s black heart with rage and hatred.

“EVEN WITHOUT A FACE YOU’RE STILL AN UGLY LITTLE SHIT!!” Isaac shouted as he picked up the hammer from the foot of the bed and began to bash the poor boy’s skull in.

He smashed it over and over, until it was nothing but a bloody caved in mass of flesh, pouring with thick, red blood and oozing out chunks of brain matter. From across the room, I gleefully observed the grand finale, which had lived up to his expectations quite wonderfully.

Isaac’s next guest was a blind old woman whom he had invited over for some tea. It took her almost five minutes to realize the chair she was sitting on was crafted using human remains, and another 6 minutes to find the stairs, only to topple down them flailing and screaming like a loon. Isaac decided to end the cruel joke there with a simple ice pick through her eye socket.

After that, he brought over a little girl whom he force-fed broken glass before using her stomach as a punching bag. As the weeks went by, more and more unlucky souls met their end in Isaac Grossman’s attic, and as the mad Grossman’s personality became more dark and sadistic, my personality followed suit while he rotted within my dusty box… until one very cold December night.

The rusty nails that were holding up the shelf of forgotten knick-knacks finally gave way and the whole thing plummeted to the ground. Isaac heard the loud thud from downstairs, and decided to climb up to the attic to investigate. He walked across the blood stained wood floor of the attic, over toward the fallen shelf. Isaac brushed aside some of the trinkets that broke in the crash, when he finally came across the Jack-in-a-box from his childhood. Isaac barely recognized the old, tattered box as he picked it up and blew off some of the dust. Then, for whatever nostalgic reason, he decided to grasp the box’s rusty clank and begin turning it.

A horribly off key Pop Goes The Weasel clanked from the worn out old box, and as it reached its climax, Isaac sung along with the final verse, “Pop goes the weasel…” The top of the box swung open, but nothing happened, it was empty. Isaac expected as much, and he tossed the old box in the garbage with the other broken knick-knacks. After the mess was cleaned up, he went to open the door to go back downstairs, but it was stuck. Isaac pulled hard but the door wouldn’t budge. Just then he heard the most horrible raspy voice call out from behind him.

“IsSsaAac…” A cold jolt ran down Isaac’s spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up as he slowly turned around… All the way across the room by the garbage can stood the nightmarish of me known as Laughing Jack!. I was still completely monochrome, my mangled black hair hung down in twisted locks, sharp jagged teeth decorated my twisted grin, and my arms hung down like a ragdoll with my grotesquely long fingers nearly scraping the floor.

Then, with a bone chilling, raspy voice, the fiendish clown spoke, “How nice it is to finally be free!… Did you miss me Isaac?”

Isaac was paralyzed in fear, “b-but I thought you weren’t real… IMAGINARY?!” Isaac stuttered. I replied with a long horrifying cackle.

“HAHAHAHA! Oh I’m quite real kiddo… In fact, I’ve been waiting such a long time for this day to finally come… When I can play with my best friend for life… One. Last. Time!” Before Isaac could reply, my long arms stretched across the room and wrapped around Isaac’s legs.

The twisted clown began pulling him closer, dragging him onto his own wooden torture bed as Isaac’s fingernails scraped along the floor. Ignoring the restraints, I swiftly grabbed some 4 three-inch long iron nails from the workbench and pressed them straight through of Isaac’s hands and feet, nailing him to the wooden torture bed. Isaac growled in pain as he shouted at his captor, “AAAH! FUCK YOU! GOD DAMN CLOWN NOSED FREAK!!”

I just chuckled, as he forcefully held Isaac’s head in place stating, “If you can’t say something nice, then don’t say anything at all!” I reached my long crooked fingers into Isaac’s mouth, firmly grasping his tongue and stretching it out as far as it could go. The clown, such as myself, then reached back and grabbed a long sharp knife from the table and slowly began to slice through the meat of Isaac’s tongue. Once lobbed off, Isaac’s mouth began to overflow with blood. I responded by shoving a small cylindrical metal tube trough Isaac’s throat to act as a temporary breathing hole. At this point Isaac was already in great pain, and had his eyes clenched shut to avoid seeing the sickening horrors that were being performed upon his body.

“Come on, it’s no fun if you don’t watch!” I said playfully, but Isaac kept his eyes tightly shut. I sighed, “Suit yourself.” Jack then forcibly held open one of Isaac’s eyes. He reached back with his big arm and took out some long pointy fishing hooks from the workbench. Slowly Jack pushed the sharp end of the hook through the top eyelid straight through the bottom of the eyebrow and out the top, permanently pinning it open. Then, he took out a second hook pushing it through the bottom eyelid and pinning it to the cheek. Jack repeated the process to the other eye, and before long, a series of sharp metal hooks made sure Isaac didn’t miss out on any of the action. Laughing Jack then took the same knife he had used to lob off Isaac’s tongue and began to focus on the removal of Isaac’s lips. Jack carefully sliced two long strips of flesh off of Isaac’s upper and lower mouth, causing his teeth and gums to be completely exposed.

“Hmm… looks like someone hasn’t been flossing regularly…” Laughing Jack cackled under his breath, as he reached back and grabbed the hammer. Isaac attempted to mutter some kind of beg for mercy, however only gurgled moans escaped his throat. Jack raised that hammer into the air and, with a twisted grin, he slammed it down, giving off a loud CRACK as the iron hammer shattered Isaac’s teeth like brittle clay. Jack dropped the hammer and began to howl with laughter as he tore open Isaac’s shirt. Taking the sharpest knife, Jack cut straight down Isaac’s chest all the way down past the stomach. Isaac groaned with sharp stinging pain as the monochrome monster wormed his wretched fingers underneath the skin on Isaac’s chest, peeling it back as he was about to preform his horrible live autopsy.

First, Jack began to pull out Isaac’s intestines in the same manner a magician would pull a series of colorful cloths out of his pocket. Then, after snipping off a small length of intestines, Jack pressed one end against his cold black lips and began blowing air into the foul organ. Once inflated, he twisted it up into the shape of a poodle, and with a loud chuckle exclaimed, “I can do giraffes too!” Isaac remained still in pain and shock, as the clown creature gently placed the macabre balloon animal beside Isaac’s head.

For his next trick, Laughing Jack reached deep into Isaac’s open stomach cavity and yanked out one of his kidneys. Holding it in his hand, Jack turned to his captive friend and shrugged stating that, “kidneys really aren’t my thing…” Tossing the organ aside Laughing Jack noticed that Isaac was beginning to drift into death.

“Feeling tired already? Why, we’re nearly at the grand finale!” Laughing Jack exclaimed as he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a long adrenaline needle. “This ought to perk you RIGHT up!” Jack shouted as he slammed the needle into Isaac’s retina and injected the liquid into his right eye socket. Jack wiggled and twisted the needle further into his old playmate’s eyeball, as Isaac was reeled back into life to the feeling of a sharp needle scraping the back of his eye socket. With a sinister chuckle, Jack yanked the needle out, pulling the eyeball out with it. Isaac’s right eye now hung out of its socket by the eyestalk as it dribbled down the side of his face.

Jack smirked, “Well, now that I have your full attention…” The insidious clown then took his long, crooked index finger and poked a hole in Isaac’s stomach. Jack lowered his head down toward the open chest cavity and stretched his mouth open wide. Within seconds, a torrent of filthy cockroaches started crawling out of the clown’s gullet, spilling onto Isaac’s open chest. Each vile roach crawled and pushed its way into the small opening in Isaac’s stomach, filling it from within full of disgusting writhing bugs. As his stomach became bloated with bugs, the roaches began to scurry up his throat, squeezing their way out of his mouth and nasal cavity.

Isaac was inches from death when his captor kneeled beside him and spoke into his ear, “It’s been a blast kido, but it looks like our time together is about up. No need for tears though, because I plan to spread my friendship to all the lonely kids of the world!” and with that said, Laughing Jack reached into Isaac’s chest and yanked out his still beating heart.

As his life bled out on that cold wooden bed, Isaac’s life flashed before his eyes. He saw his mother, his father, the boarding school, his victims, and the last thought that fluttered through his mind, was of that very special Christmas where he woke up to find the beautifully hand carved wooden box that contained his very first friend…

There are rumors that, when the police finally found Isaac Grossman’s rotten, maggot infested corpse weeks later on Christmas Eve, that even though his face had been bashed and torn to bits… He almost looked… Happy.

“Now then, are you ready to ask me some questions? Just follow these rules first:
-Just a few questions at a time.
-No NSFW Questions. (Please keep it clean.)
-No Hurtful or Negative Comments.
-All compliments and encouragement are appreciated.
-And, finally, let’s have fun.
Ok! Let’s do this!

Description
Laughing Jack: Greetings our beloved creepypasta fans around the entire planet, I believe that you all recognize me known as Laughing Jack The Clown. And I think it's time tell you all about me from previous years. Allow me to explain you all about me. It was a very long, long, long long time ago. It’s Christmas Eve in snowy 1800’s London, England, and in a small house at the edge of town, there lived a lonely, 7-year-old boy named Isaac. Isaac was a sad child with not a friend to his name. While most children were spending time with their families and eagerly looking forward to opening the presents that were placed with care beneath a beautifully decorated Christmas tree, little Isaac spent this most holy of nights alone, in his cold, dusty attic room. Isaac’s parents were very poor, his mother was a strict crow of a woman who stayed at home and schooled Isaac. His father worked long hours down at the London harbour to support his family, although a large portion of his earnings went toward purchasing and consuming copious amounts of alcohol at the end of his shift. Sometimes, he would come home drunk, after being thrown out of every bar in London, and shout at his beloved wife, Isaac’s mother. Which I didn't know who she was,. But I know I'm a imaginary clown, but I know Issac feels and I know how I feel for him.

Occasionally, it would escalate to violence and he would beat her savagely, then when he was done, he’d force himself upon her in a drunken, sexual rage. As it so happens, this particular night was one of those occasions. Isaac just remained quiet, quivering beneath his soiled bed sheets until the screams and loud bangs subsided. Once poor frightened Isaac was finally able to fall asleep, he’d dream of what it would be like to have a friend to play with, so maybe he could laugh and be happy like the other children of London. Luckily for little Isaac, this Christmas Eve marked a big change, when his abysmal loneliness caught the attention of a guardian angel, who then crafted a very special gift for the sad little London boy.

As the sun rose on that Christmas morning, Isaac opened his eyes to find a strange wooden box sitting at the foot of his bed. With eyes widened in awe, he stared at the colorful, hand crafted box, wondering who had left it. He was not used to receiving gifts, especially toys. What little toys Isaac did have were ones he’d found abandoned in the street or washed up in the gutters. Isaac scooted up to the foot of his bed in front of the mysterious box and picked it up with both hands. The box was beautifully painted in colorful styles, with carvings of happy clown faces on the side. There was a tag on the box that simply read “For Isaac.” On the top of the box was an engraved text.

Isaac squinted his eyes as he sounded out the words, “L-laugh-ing-J-Jack-in-a-b-box…” he paused, “…Laughing Jack-in-a-box?” Isaac had heard of a Jack-in-a-box, but never a Laughing Jack-in-a-box. His mind spun with curiosity as he grasped the box’s metal crank. Isaac tuned the crank and the song Pop Goes The Weasel chimed in rhythm with the crank’s gyrations. As the song came to its climax, Isaac sang along with the final verse, “Pop goes the weasel,” but nothing happened. Isaac let out a sigh, “It’s broken…” He placed the box back down on the edge of the bed, and shuffled across his small dusty room to his dresser where he changed out of his soiled sleepwear and into his usual tattered clothes.

Suddenly, Isaac heard a loud rattling noise coming from the bed behind him. He spun around to witness the wooden box violently shaking. Then, without warning, the top of the box swung open and a parade of colorful smoke and confetti bellowed out. Isaac rubbed his eyes in disbelief of what he was seeing. As the smoke cleared, there stood a tall, thin, multicolored clown man, with bright red hair, a swirly, rainbow colored cone nose, and feathery shoulders that sat atop his raggedy and colorful clown outfit.

And there I was. The Technicolor clown spread his arms and excitedly announced, “COME ONE, COME ALL! WHETHER BIG OR SMALL! TO SEE THE BEST CLOWN OF THEM ALL!! The one, the only, LAUGHING JACK-IN-A-BOX!!!”

Isaac’s eyes lit up, “W-Who are you?” he asked.

The colorful carnie stepped down off the bed and with a happy grin said, “I’m glad you asked! I am Laughing Jack, your new friend FOR LIFE! I’m magical, I never get tired of playing, I’m a wiz at the accordion, and I adapt and develop with your own changing personality… In other words, whatever you like, I like!”

Isaac looked up at the mysterious clown man, “W-we’re friends?” he stuttered.

Jack looked at the boy while cocking an eyebrow, “FRIENDS? We’re BEST friends! I was specially created to be YOUR not-so-imaginary friend, Isaac.”

Isaac’s jaw dropped, “You know my name?”

I letted out a whimsical laugh, “Of course I know your name! I know everything about you! So, now that the introductions are out of the way… How would you like to play a game of I Spy?”

Isaac grinned from ear to ear, “REALLY? We can play games? I’d LOVE to! I-… Oh…”

He paused, “I-I cant… I have to go downstairs to see mother for homeschooling and chores…” my smile faded into a look disappointment.

I placed his hand on Isaac’s shoulder and with a warm smile said, “It’s okay! I’ll be waiting right here for you when you get back.” Isaac’s smile returned as he looked up at his new friend. Just then, he heard his mother’s shrill voice calling him from downstairs.

“Well I gotta go! I’ll see you after I’m done, okay Jack?” He said as he headed toward the door.

I smiled, “Absolutely kiddo! Oh, and Isaac!”

Isaac looked back at me, who gave him a wink and said, “You should wear that smile more often. It suits you.”

Isaac grinned happily as he turned and walked out the door.

All day Isaac told his mother about the amazing colorful clown man who came out of a magical box that appeared on the foot of his bed. His mother, however, did not believe a word of it. Finally, he persuaded his mother to follow him up to his room so she could behold me for herself. They walked up the stairs and Isaac swung open the door to his room.

“See mother? He’s right he-…” Isaac paused as he scanned the room that contained neither magical dancing clown man, nor mysterious wooden box. Isaac’s mother was not amused. She gave Isaac a glare so menacing it made his knees weak and his stomach sick.

“B-but mother… he was-“ SMACK! Isaac’s mother delivered onto him a swift, hard smack across his face. His eyes began to tear up, and his lip began to quiver as he could feel himself about to break down.

“YOU STUPID INSOLENT CHILD! How DARE you lie to me about such childish idiocy! Who would want to be friends with a useless worm such as you?! You shall remain in your room for the rest of the evening, and shall receive no dinner… Now what do you say you ungrateful wretch?”

Isaac managed to swallow the knot in his throat in order mutter a reply, “T-thank you m’am.” His mother glared down at him for a moment before leaving the room in disgust.

Isaac kneeled over, burying his face in the side of his bed. Streams of tears ran down his cheeks as he began to weep. “What’s wrong kiddo?” a voice called out. Isaac looked over to the edge of the bed, where I was now suddenly sitting beside him. Feeling bad sorry for the young Isaac.

“Wh-where were you?” Isaac murmured.

I ran my hand through Isaac’s hair to comfort him as I softly replied, “I was hiding… I can’t let your parents see me… Otherwise they won’t let us play anymore.” Isaac wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Look kiddo, I’m sorry I had to hide, but I’ll make it up to you! Because tonight we can play games and have tons of fun!” I said, smiling.

Isaac looked up at his vibrant pal and silently nodded, as a little smile began to form in the corners of his mouth. That night, me and Isaac played so many fun games. With a wave of his hand, I made all of Isaac’s tin solders spring to life and march around the room. Isaac was amazed as he watched his toys move around the room on their own. Then, me and Isaac told each other spooky ghost stories. Isaac asked me if I was a ghost, but I explained that I was more of a cosmic entity, of sorts. At the end of the night, I reached into my pocket and pulled out an assortment of delicious candy. Isaac was in ecstasy when I popped the first colorful treat in my mouth, as it was my first time tasting something so sweet. Isaac had so much fun and laughed so hard that night that things seemed to be finally looking up for little Isaac… At least, until the incident that occurred three months later…

It was pleasantly warm and sunny in London that day, which was a bit of a rarity. So, with the help of a certain not-so-imaginary friend, Isaac was able to finish his chores early and was allowed to go outside and play for a bit. Things started simply enough, the duo were back behind the house playing pirates, when Isaac spotted the neighbors cat sneaking into their garden.

“YEARGH! WE GOT AN ENEMY SPY OFF THE STARBOARD BOW!” Isaac yelled, captivated by fantasy and imagination.

“Yo ho! I’ll gets him Captain Isaac!” Exclaimed first mate like me, in my best hearty pirate accent. My arm stretched out across the garden and snatched the unsuspecting feline, who began to struggle quite vigorously.

“DON’T LET HIM GET AWAY JACKIE, OR I’LL MAKE YE WALK THE PLANK!” Isaac antagonized.

My grip on the cat tightened, and my arms grew and extended like anacondas wrapping themselves around the wily feline as it struggled for dear life. My arms just kept squeezing the animal, pressing the air out of its lungs. As the once dear house pet’s eyes began to bulge out of their sockets, there came a loud SNAP! I quickly released the creature from his grasp as its lifeless furry husk thudded against the ground. There was hush silence as the two observed the cat’s now twisted and mangled corpse. The silence was finally broken by an uproarious laughter… coming from Isaac…. But except for me, when I crushed that innocent cat with my hands, I felt fear, shame, grief and sympathy and sadness in my cosmic heart. I didn't mean to hurt the innocent animal. I was just not thinking straight, even for a clown like me.

“AHAHAHAHA Wow! I guess cats really DON’T have nine lives! AHAHAHA!” Isaac exclaimed nearly teary eyed from laughter.

I began to chuckle as well, but deep down inside of my body,I made a mistake and it was my fault that I killed an innocent animal that meant no harm. “Heh heh. Yeah… But won’t you get in trouble if your mother finds your neighbor’s cat dead in her garden?” Isaac’s laughter quickly subsided.

“Oh no! You’re right! Um… I’ll just… throw it back into the neighbor’s yard?!” Isaac panicked as he grabbed a nearby shovel and scooped up the broken cat cadaver before lobbing it over the fence back into the neighbors yard. They quickly went back inside and up into Isaac’s room.

About an hour later, it came. The ear piercing squawk of Isaac’s mother shrieking his name from downstairs. Neither me nor Isaac said a word as he crept down the stairs alone to face whatever horrible fate was coming to him. I could hear much yelling from downstairs but couldn’t make out what was being said. After about thirty minutes, a teary eyed Isaac ascended the stairs back up into the room and it shocked me to my core.

“Well?” i asked nervously. Isaac just starred at the ground as he spoke, “I… Tried to tell her it was you who hurt the cat… She didn’t believe me… Said you weren’t real…” I frowned sadly, knowing this was all his fault. And he's right. It's my fault I got him in trouble and hurt.

Isaac used his sleeve to wipe away his tears, “I’m being sent off to a boarding school… I’m leaving tonight… and you can’t come with me…”

My face turned to shock, “What?! I-I can’t come? Where will I go?” Isaac said nothing but pointed over at the beautiful colored box from where his friend had originated. And he did what he had to do.

“Back in there? But I won’t be able to get out until…” I paused.

Isaac looked up as his only friend with tears streaming down his face, “Jack… I promise I’ll come back for you as soon as I can!” Jack looked at the box, then back at Isaac.

“And I’ll be right here waiting for you kiddo.” I smiled, as a single tear ran down his cheek. He walked over to the box and, with a puff of smoke, was sucked back in, unable to be free until once again opened.

That night, Isaac was sent off to boarding school. For the first time, I felt what it was like to be lonely. Even when trapped in my box, I was able to see the things going on around it, so each day, i waited for my friend to return, and each day the room grew older and dustier. My one purpose was to be Isaac’s best friend for life, and now I had to wait day after day, month after month, to reunite with my special friend. Isaac’s parents still lived in the house, but never came to the upstairs room. The only time they made their presence known was when I would hear them fighting. Still my life became one of solitude, loneliness, and disappointment. As years went by, my once bright vibrant colors began to fade into a monochrome blur of pitch-black void and stark white emptiness. Trapped all alone… eternal and hopeless. Yep, my colorful rainbow were once part of me, but not anymore. Now I have to live my clowny life with black and white colors and scary looks too.

Thirteen years passed until the night Isaac’s father came home particularly drunk, and got into an argument with his wife, as per usual. Things escalated to physical violence once again, however this time, she didn’t get back up. Isaac’s father had beaten his wife to a dead, bloody pulp and was sentenced to hang at the gallows the next day. With both his parents dead, this meant that the now twenty-year-old Isaac inherited the dusty old house he spent the earlier half of his childhood in. I was quite surprised when I heard my old friend’s footsteps walking up the stairs to the attic room for the first time in thirteen years, however it was not the reunion I had hoped for.

Isaac looked… different. Not only was he older, but he also seemed to posses this odd grim look on his face. No longer was he the hopeful and curious young boy I first met all those years ago. I eagerly awaited Isaac’s releasing him from the prison he had waited in for so many years, but still my box sat there, untouched and unnoticed on a shelf in the corner of the room with all the other dusty, unwanted knick-knacks. Isaac had completely forgotten about his old friend, dismissed as some sort of early childhood fabrication. Surprisingly, this made me feel… nothing. I was hollow, thirteen years of waiting and disappointment left the monochrome clown void of sorrow and self-pity. I remained in my box, colorless and without emotion.

The next day, Isaac went off to work at his job as an upholsterer, doing furniture repairs for the good people of London. I waited in captivity. Hours later, a drunken Isaac returned home and stumbled up the stairs to his room, but this time he had a friend with him. It was a lady friend Isaac had picked up at the bar earlier that evening. She was beautiful, with flowing blonde hair, sapphire blue eyes, and a smile that could make hearts melt. My attention was drawn to Isaac’s guest, “Who is this? A new friend? Why does Isaac need new friends? I thought I was Isaac’s only friend?” I thought to myself from within his hellish confinement. Isaac and his lady friend sat down on the bed and chatted about life in London. Isaac made a joke about the weather and they both laughed.

I hissed with envy over Isaac’s new friend. Isaac and the girl looked deeply into each other’s eyes as they leaned in for a kiss, locking lips with a passionate swirling of tongues in one another’s mouth. I was perplexed by this strange display of affection, for he had never seen kissing before. As the kissing grew more intense, Isaac ran his hand along the girl’s smooth thigh and up her dress, however his guest just brushed his hand away. Isaac was persistent though, and once again ran his hand along her smooth thigh and up her skirt, this time placing his hand upon her silky undergarments. The woman took great displeasure with Isaac’s sexual advancements and pushed Isaac away before delivering a hard smack across his face. Isaac’s eyes darkened as he glared at the woman, his once drunken passion turned into booze-fueled anger. The woman’s heart sped up as she saw Isaac’s face boil with rage. Just like his father and mother from the past.

“STUPID WHORE!” Isaac yelled as he smashed his fist into the girl’s face.

My eyes widened as he witnessed the long streaks of red liquid gushing from the girl’s nose, “What game is this?” my thought, my eyes a virgin to such violent sights. Isaac firmly clutched the girl’s wrist with one hand as he tore her panties off with the other.

The terrified girl tried to fight back, but Isaac was overpowering her. He roughly fondled her breasts, before savagely grabbing her hair and forcing his tongue down the sobbing young woman’s throat, who responded by chomping down as hard as she could on Isaac’s tongue. Jack watched with wide and curious eyes as his old friend released his new playmate and clutched his mouth as it filled with warm, red blood. The frightened girl fell off the bed and dropped down on the floor as she scurried toward the exit. Isaac quickly lurched forward and was able to catch his fleeing plaything by the end of her dress.

Reaching back, he wielded a lead candlestick off the nightstand beside him, and with all of his might bashed in the back of the young woman’s head, which burst open like a ripe watermelon. Thick blood splattered across the room as the girl’s body convulsed on the ground for several seconds, before going completely still. Blood was everywhere, some droplets even managed to get on my box, who was very much enjoying the show. For the first time in thirteen long years, a smile began to creep across my face, and all of a sudden a chuckle escaped my cold lips, then another, and another, until I was cackling and howling with laughter from inside his sealed box. But on the inside, the colorful me would never like this commotion.

“What a wonderfully fascinating game!” I thought, as i watched the motionless girl’s golden blonde hair flow red with blood. Like Carrie White.

As the adrenaline began to mellow, Isaac realized he had to dispose of the body. He picked up the girl’s lifeless corpse and plopped it on the bed, he then left the room closing the door behind him and locking it before leaving the house. He returned almost a full day later and re-entered the room brining with him a metal garbage can and his bag of upholstery tools from work. He then cleared everything off the wooden desk on the wall opposite to the door, and then dragged the bed with bloody corpse into the middle of the room. This not only gave Isaac room to work, but it also gave me a front row seat to the whole spectacle. I watched with a big, unfading grin as Isaac played his new game with the soiled corpse. Once Isaac was all set up, he got to work.

First, he dumped out the contents of his big black tool bag onto the worktable behind him. An assortment of knives, hammers, pliers, and other tools was now laid out before him. His first pick was curved upholstery knife, which he used to carefully skin the body. That skin was then placed on racks to be stretched and turned into leather. Once that was put in place, Isaac then used a handsaw to saw off the arms, legs, and head, disturbing the home of several families of maggots in the process. After filling the garbage can with bleach and other vile chemicals, he submerged the limbs until the meat was stripped from the bones. Isaac fished the bones out of the soupy corpse juice and placed them on the worktable, then in the cover of night, he brought the trash can outside and dumped the rotten remains into the London sewers to be swept away into the harbour.

For the next three days, I watched with wonderment as the inspired Isaac crafted the once human anatomy into a grotesque armchair abomination. The femur was made into the back legs of the chair, while the tibia, with the feet still attached of course, was made into the front chair legs. A wooden frame was used for the base and backing of the chair, however the rim of the backing was crafted using the spinal column. The arm bones were used as the arms of the chair, and were fastened in place by some ribs. This is like Tusk and Frankenstein all over again.

The now leathery flesh was sewn onto the seat and backing of the chair, and the golden blonde hair was braided into a lining for the base. Atop this armchair from hell sat the skull that once belonged to the girl who had the golden blonde hair, the sapphire eyes, and the smile that could melt hearts. Isaac was quite pleased with his work, and Laughing Jack too was impressed by his old playmate’s profound creativity. After that night, Isaac never touched another drop of alcohol again, for he now possessed a much more macabre thirst.

In the following weeks, Isaac made several improvements to his little workshop of horrors. He removed the mattress from the bed and put a row of thick wooden planks in its place, and then he fastened arm and leg restraints to the bottom and sides. This would mean he would be able to entertain his guests for a longer period without them trying any rude escape attempts. Isaac needed only one, final thing before planning another grotesque party. He worked on it for a week straight, hand carving it out of wood.

After a coat of white paint was applied, Isaac’s creation was complete. It was a wooden mask, resembling something one would wear at a Venetian masquerade ball. It had a furrowed brow and a long, troll-like nose, and would allow him to strike fear in the hearts of his beloved guests. With his new face complete and the room transformed into a bloody murder nest, it was finally time for Isaac Lee Grossman to bring home a new playmate.

That following night, I watched as the masked Isaac Grossman stomped up the stairs, carrying with him a large burlap sack with his newest guest writhing within. He dumped the bag out on his torture bed, and out plopped a bound, gagged, and very frightened young boy, probably only five or six years old. Isaac quickly undid the boy’s bindings and held him down as he restrained his hands and feet to the steel bedframe. Tears streamed endlessly down the boy’s helpless little face, as Isaac laid out his tools on the workbench. Isaac returned wielding a pair of rusty pliers, and wasting no time he slid the bottom jaw of the pliers under the boy’s fingernail on his right index finger and clamped it tightly. The child’s eyes quivered as he began muttering through his gag, begging Isaac to let him go. Isaac smirked as he slowly bent the pliers backward, painfully prying off the first fingernail. And I knew that the Issac I knew became a serial killer, like John Wayne Gacy/Pogo The Clown and Ted Bundy. And believe me, I am much worse than Pogo The Clown.

The boy screamed through his gag as he writhed in agony on the wooden boards, his finger beginning to gush with blood. Isaac then moved on to the boy’s middle finger, firmly grasping the nail with the rusty pliers. Once again, he jerked the pliers back, but this time the nail only tore off half way. The boy yelped in pain as his fingers twitched and shot with blood. Clamping the half pried off nail, Isaac gave it another yank. The nail tore off, but not without taking a good deal of skin tissue with it. Even Isaac was a bit rebuffed by this painful sight, unlike the spying Laughing Jack who was cackling with joy at the disturbing action as he watched from within his old dusty box.

Isaac returned to the workbench and swapped the pliers for a large iron hammer. He then made his way to the foot of the torture bed, where with one hand he held down the boy’s left leg. He raised the hammer high above his head as the boy cried and pleaded for mercy through his dirty gag, then with all his might, Isaac slammed the hammer down on to the boy’s bare kneecap, shattering the bone into gravel with a loud CRACK! The child convulsed in pain with shrill screams muffling through the cloth gag tied tightly to his face.

As the child struggled with intense pain, Isaac placed the hammer down on the wooden bed and returned once more to the workbench where he equipped himself with a long sharp knife. Without delay he began carving the words “Useless Worm” into the child’s quivering chest. When he finished the boy was barely conscious. Isaac knelt down and whispered into the boy’s ear, “This is what happens to rotten children who make nasty faces at people…”

The child’s eyes filled with tears one final time as Isaac began to carve the skin off the boy’s face, but to Isaac’s surprise the boy still clung to life. The mutilated child just stared up at Isaac with his big round eyes, which filled Isaac’s black heart with rage and hatred.

“EVEN WITHOUT A FACE YOU’RE STILL AN UGLY LITTLE SHIT!!” Isaac shouted as he picked up the hammer from the foot of the bed and began to bash the poor boy’s skull in.

He smashed it over and over, until it was nothing but a bloody caved in mass of flesh, pouring with thick, red blood and oozing out chunks of brain matter. From across the room, I gleefully observed the grand finale, which had lived up to his expectations quite wonderfully.

Isaac’s next guest was a blind old woman whom he had invited over for some tea. It took her almost five minutes to realize the chair she was sitting on was crafted using human remains, and another 6 minutes to find the stairs, only to topple down them flailing and screaming like a loon. Isaac decided to end the cruel joke there with a simple ice pick through her eye socket.

After that, he brought over a little girl whom he force-fed broken glass before using her stomach as a punching bag. As the weeks went by, more and more unlucky souls met their end in Isaac Grossman’s attic, and as the mad Grossman’s personality became more dark and sadistic, my personality followed suit while he rotted within my dusty box… until one very cold December night.

The rusty nails that were holding up the shelf of forgotten knick-knacks finally gave way and the whole thing plummeted to the ground. Isaac heard the loud thud from downstairs, and decided to climb up to the attic to investigate. He walked across the blood stained wood floor of the attic, over toward the fallen shelf. Isaac brushed aside some of the trinkets that broke in the crash, when he finally came across the Jack-in-a-box from his childhood. Isaac barely recognized the old, tattered box as he picked it up and blew off some of the dust. Then, for whatever nostalgic reason, he decided to grasp the box’s rusty clank and begin turning it.

A horribly off key Pop Goes The Weasel clanked from the worn out old box, and as it reached its climax, Isaac sung along with the final verse, “Pop goes the weasel…” The top of the box swung open, but nothing happened, it was empty. Isaac expected as much, and he tossed the old box in the garbage with the other broken knick-knacks. After the mess was cleaned up, he went to open the door to go back downstairs, but it was stuck. Isaac pulled hard but the door wouldn’t budge. Just then he heard the most horrible raspy voice call out from behind him.

“IsSsaAac…” A cold jolt ran down Isaac’s spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up as he slowly turned around… All the way across the room by the garbage can stood the nightmarish of me known as Laughing Jack!. I was still completely monochrome, my mangled black hair hung down in twisted locks, sharp jagged teeth decorated my twisted grin, and my arms hung down like a ragdoll with my grotesquely long fingers nearly scraping the floor.

Then, with a bone chilling, raspy voice, the fiendish clown spoke, “How nice it is to finally be free!… Did you miss me Isaac?”

Isaac was paralyzed in fear, “b-but I thought you weren’t real… IMAGINARY?!” Isaac stuttered. I replied with a long horrifying cackle.

“HAHAHAHA! Oh I’m quite real kiddo… In fact, I’ve been waiting such a long time for this day to finally come… When I can play with my best friend for life… One. Last. Time!” Before Isaac could reply, my long arms stretched across the room and wrapped around Isaac’s legs.

The twisted clown began pulling him closer, dragging him onto his own wooden torture bed as Isaac’s fingernails scraped along the floor. Ignoring the restraints, I swiftly grabbed some 4 three-inch long iron nails from the workbench and pressed them straight through of Isaac’s hands and feet, nailing him to the wooden torture bed. Isaac growled in pain as he shouted at his captor, “AAAH! FUCK YOU! GOD DAMN CLOWN NOSED FREAK!!”

I just chuckled, as he forcefully held Isaac’s head in place stating, “If you can’t say something nice, then don’t say anything at all!” I reached my long crooked fingers into Isaac’s mouth, firmly grasping his tongue and stretching it out as far as it could go. The clown, such as myself, then reached back and grabbed a long sharp knife from the table and slowly began to slice through the meat of Isaac’s tongue. Once lobbed off, Isaac’s mouth began to overflow with blood. I responded by shoving a small cylindrical metal tube trough Isaac’s throat to act as a temporary breathing hole. At this point Isaac was already in great pain, and had his eyes clenched shut to avoid seeing the sickening horrors that were being performed upon his body.

“Come on, it’s no fun if you don’t watch!” I said playfully, but Isaac kept his eyes tightly shut. I sighed, “Suit yourself.” Jack then forcibly held open one of Isaac’s eyes. He reached back with his big arm and took out some long pointy fishing hooks from the workbench. Slowly Jack pushed the sharp end of the hook through the top eyelid straight through the bottom of the eyebrow and out the top, permanently pinning it open. Then, he took out a second hook pushing it through the bottom eyelid and pinning it to the cheek. Jack repeated the process to the other eye, and before long, a series of sharp metal hooks made sure Isaac didn’t miss out on any of the action. Laughing Jack then took the same knife he had used to lob off Isaac’s tongue and began to focus on the removal of Isaac’s lips. Jack carefully sliced two long strips of flesh off of Isaac’s upper and lower mouth, causing his teeth and gums to be completely exposed.

“Hmm… looks like someone hasn’t been flossing regularly…” Laughing Jack cackled under his breath, as he reached back and grabbed the hammer. Isaac attempted to mutter some kind of beg for mercy, however only gurgled moans escaped his throat. Jack raised that hammer into the air and, with a twisted grin, he slammed it down, giving off a loud CRACK as the iron hammer shattered Isaac’s teeth like brittle clay. Jack dropped the hammer and began to howl with laughter as he tore open Isaac’s shirt. Taking the sharpest knife, Jack cut straight down Isaac’s chest all the way down past the stomach. Isaac groaned with sharp stinging pain as the monochrome monster wormed his wretched fingers underneath the skin on Isaac’s chest, peeling it back as he was about to preform his horrible live autopsy.

First, Jack began to pull out Isaac’s intestines in the same manner a magician would pull a series of colorful cloths out of his pocket. Then, after snipping off a small length of intestines, Jack pressed one end against his cold black lips and began blowing air into the foul organ. Once inflated, he twisted it up into the shape of a poodle, and with a loud chuckle exclaimed, “I can do giraffes too!” Isaac remained still in pain and shock, as the clown creature gently placed the macabre balloon animal beside Isaac’s head.

For his next trick, Laughing Jack reached deep into Isaac’s open stomach cavity and yanked out one of his kidneys. Holding it in his hand, Jack turned to his captive friend and shrugged stating that, “kidneys really aren’t my thing…” Tossing the organ aside Laughing Jack noticed that Isaac was beginning to drift into death.

“Feeling tired already? Why, we’re nearly at the grand finale!” Laughing Jack exclaimed as he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a long adrenaline needle. “This ought to perk you RIGHT up!” Jack shouted as he slammed the needle into Isaac’s retina and injected the liquid into his right eye socket. Jack wiggled and twisted the needle further into his old playmate’s eyeball, as Isaac was reeled back into life to the feeling of a sharp needle scraping the back of his eye socket. With a sinister chuckle, Jack yanked the needle out, pulling the eyeball out with it. Isaac’s right eye now hung out of its socket by the eyestalk as it dribbled down the side of his face.

Jack smirked, “Well, now that I have your full attention…” The insidious clown then took his long, crooked index finger and poked a hole in Isaac’s stomach. Jack lowered his head down toward the open chest cavity and stretched his mouth open wide. Within seconds, a torrent of filthy cockroaches started crawling out of the clown’s gullet, spilling onto Isaac’s open chest. Each vile roach crawled and pushed its way into the small opening in Isaac’s stomach, filling it from within full of disgusting writhing bugs. As his stomach became bloated with bugs, the roaches began to scurry up his throat, squeezing their way out of his mouth and nasal cavity.

Isaac was inches from death when his captor kneeled beside him and spoke into his ear, “It’s been a blast kido, but it looks like our time together is about up. No need for tears though, because I plan to spread my friendship to all the lonely kids of the world!” and with that said, Laughing Jack reached into Isaac’s chest and yanked out his still beating heart.

As his life bled out on that cold wooden bed, Isaac’s life flashed before his eyes. He saw his mother, his father, the boarding school, his victims, and the last thought that fluttered through his mind, was of that very special Christmas where he woke up to find the beautifully hand carved wooden box that contained his very first friend…

There are rumors that, when the police finally found Isaac Grossman’s rotten, maggot infested corpse weeks later on Christmas Eve, that even though his face had been bashed and torn to bits… He almost looked… Happy.

“Now then, are you ready to ask me some questions? Just follow these rules first:
-Just a few questions at a time.
-No NSFW Questions. (Please keep it clean.)
-No Hurtful or Negative Comments.
-All compliments and encouragement are appreciated.
-And, finally, let’s have fun.
Ok! Let’s do this!