Dead Clown Highway

EXT, DAY – AMERICAN SOUTHWEST.
Scenery out of a Roadrunner cartoon. Towering cliffs, mesas, etc.

INT, CAR
MAN driving on a winding road hugging the cliff face. Young. Late 20s, early 30s. Cliff to his right, sheer drop to his left.

MAN passes a sign:

DEAD CLOWN HIGHWAY

Gets a puzzled look on his face.

Keeps driving.

All of a sudden there’s a loud …

WHOOOONT!

And the body of a dead clown (whiteface clown in polka dots) lands smack dab on the hood in front of his car.

The clown, Pulp Fiction style, rolls over the windshield, shattering the glass.

Much blood.

MAN: Aggghhhhhh!

The MAN fights for control of the car, desperately swerving. By some miracle of God, he doesn’t go over the cliff.

LATER –

Ambulances, police cars. The MAN is huddled in a blanket.

A COP walks up to him, cynical and hard, wearing mirrorshades like the badass in “Cool Hand Luke.”

MAN:(shaking violently)The clown, he … He just … He just …

COP: Dropped down on top of your car?

The MAN nods.

COP: And that took you by surprise?

The MAN nods.

The COP finds this amusing. Points at sign.

COP: Son. Why do you think they call it "Dead Clown Highway?"