"I should be grateful." Ted groaned to himself as a sort of mantra as he sat up in his bed.

As he looked at the sun trying to force its way through his grimy window there was a flash of something else. A clown, she had a knife, and she was lunging right for him.

Ted stumbled back on the bed as his heart began to race. But in that same moment, the clown was gone, and he was alone in his barren room.

Ted put his hand down over his heart as it threatened to leap from his chest. He looked around the room, as if the clown had simply disappeared. Like she would reappear at any moment and drive that knife through his chest.

After a couple minutes on edge, Ted finally started to calm down. His back was wet with sweat, and he felt a little sick.

He managed to pull himself up off of his bed. Slowly, he shambled down to the kitchen. It was dark in the old room. The blinds were closed, and the only real light coming in was from a crack in the wooden door that led outside.

He walked to the fridge and opened it. The lightbulb inside flickered as it strained to successfully turn on.

The darkness was normal to Ted. He looked around inside as he searched for something edible. Expired eggs, a solid chunk of milk, one pickle in a jar, and some condiment packets scattered throughout.

Ted settled on the pickle and a packet of mustard. He grabbed the off yellow packet first, but as he put his hand around the jar, something changed.

In the jar there wasn't a pickle anymore. It was his uncle's head. He could even see the purple strain on the stub of his neck.

But, unlike the clown this wasn't a big surprise. Ted simply closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. When he opened his eyes again, it was just the lone pickle floating in the green liquid.

With the jar in hand Ted thought about how long it had been since he saw his uncle. It seemed to happen more and more frequently. Maybe he should see someone about all that. Then again, that was a lot of effort. Especially that first step.

Actually setting something like that in stone? Now that was terrifying. That first step felt like having to jump across an impossibly long canyon. It was so laughable, how could he ever make that attempt?

I mean, he already knew it wasn't going to really fix anything, right?

Ted had to cover his eyes as he stepped out into the light. It stung, but it was only for a moment.

Making a change was hard. It was so much easier just to drift with life's currents. Take things as they came and flow with them. That's why, even after he inherited this place, he still kept his job that was two hours away.

It was just easier to just stay where he already had a job. Even updating his resume felt frightening, let alone putting himself out there for what would no doubt be countless rejections.

As he sat down in his car, he took a bite out of his mustard covered pickle. While he crunched on the dill, he adjusted the rearview mirror.

His heart sunk as he froze in place. There in the backseat was the clown. She was tossing the knife up and down in her hand. Her eyes were locked with his, and that smile...instinctively Ted knew that was the smile of a killer.

Her bloodstained grin grew as she leaned forward, but Ted was too terrified to move. All he could do was stare at her.

"Urk!"

Ted stammered as he felt something warm and wet on his back. The shock of the strange feeling let him pull his eyes from hers and he looked down.

Sticking out of his chest was the blade of a long kitchen knife. It was covered in his juices, and he couldn't do anything but look on in shock.

As Ted reached down towards the knife, his hand passed right through it and patted his chest. He blinked, and it was gone. Slowly, he turned around and the backseat was empty. He checked his chest again, and it was perfectly fine, except for a sharp, aching pain in his chest.

He needed to leave soon for work, but he wouldn't be able to drive a couple hours like this. He got out of the car and checked every nook and cranny inside and outside of it.

Nothing was there.

Ted shook his head. He wasn't sure why he was suddenly seeing a murderous clown, but he certainly didn't like it.

"Mmmm..." Pockets cooed. "You're even more resilient than my favorite bonehead."

The clown licked her lips as she let go of the knife's handle just as the muscular robot swiped where her hand had been.

It kept its featureless face turned towards her as it grabbed the knife's handle and ripped it free from his back.

The knife fell with a clatter as the machine stumbled as it turned around.

The fight had definitely turned around, but despite the tattered remains of his scrawny companion, the muscular robot, with its crystal necklace, held on somehow.