ding the bell above the door rings as a man with an iconic purple and green suit, purple cowboy hat and greasy but shiny short green hair steps into the diner.

You work from 12-12am, you’d have it shorter but with all the mysterious disappearances of your colleagues, you’re doing double time. You look up from the counter you’re cleaning with a rag and see him sit on a stool across you. Everyone stares.

He takes off his hat and his pure white skin with red lipstick and eyeliner face revealed that he’s the one and only Clown Prince of Crime.

“Glass of bourbon, darling. Be quick with it, I’ve got other things to attend to.”