It
“Hi, Pennywise.”
“Oh. Hi…”
“What’s the matter, Pennywise? You seem a little down in the dumps.”
“I’ve been depressed.”
“Why are you depressed, Pennywise?”
“Lately I’ve just been thinking, what’s the point?”
“Of what?”
“Of me. Of what I do. Why am I here?”
“Well, you’re the physical and emotional manifestation of pure fear and evil in the universe. That’s pretty important.”
“Really? If it’s so important, why am I cursed only to terrorize children who live in a tiny town in f–king Maine? Like, literally who even cares?”
“Well, Pennywise, that’s for the Deadlights to know. It’s not our place to question the Deadlights.”
“I know, but that’s what’s so depressing. There’s no reason and no end to it.”
“Everyone has these feelings sometimes, Pennywise. All you can do is the best you can, within the limits of your circumstances. And, Pennywise, you always do that.”
“I do?”
“Sure you do. This town is scared out of its mind of you. Some people are so frightened that they literally go insane.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“Hey, I know what’ll cheer you up. Why don’t you hide in a storm drain and wait for some little brat to waddle by so you can rip his arms off and take a bath in his stupid blood?”
“Hey, yeah, I guess that could be fun.”
“See? You’re smiling again already.”