Actually, it descended at more of a 30-degree angle, catching on the wind and rising under the hats of anyone foolish enough to go out. But the figure I was watching was not wearing a hat.
A sad clown is a common, yet tragic, sight. This one was particularly troubling - his large green wig was weighed down with rainwater, and his make-up had run onto his purple suit.
"Why so sad?" I called out, safe in a phone-box.
"It's wet." He replied, simply and sadly.
"And ever since that Batman film, the kids are even more scared of me than usual."
I looked at him with a level of sadness suitable for this sad scene.
"Well, you do look kinda like the Joker - I mean, your costume is really very, very similar..."
He looked down sadly. Everything was very sad. A crow landed on top of my phone-box, and the clattering panicked me momentarily.
Another moment passed, and the clown looked back at me.
"Do you live in that phone-box?" He asked.
"No." I lied, "I have a mansion. I'm just selling shares on the Internet."
He looked puzzled for a moment - the third of our tale - but seemed to let it go. After a few moments, the rain started to ease up, and I left the phone-box. I think I'll go sleep in the haunted graveyard for a few days. It's unlikely any more bad things involving ghosts will happen to me.
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