{{quote|1=Fuck you ass pirate. Candle Cove can lick the salty underside of my left nut.|2='s author ([https://archive.is/4D1eJ actual quote])}}
Now this is the story all about how
I became another cliched, murdering clown.
And I'd like to take a minute so just kick back.
I'll tell ya all about how I became Laughing Jack.
In London, England, born and raised.
Isaac played in his room with me most of his days.
Playing games, actin' like pirates on a ship.
Right before this creepypasta turns to absolute shit.
When his drunk of a dad, who was up to no good
Pissed off every bar in the neighborhood.
He got in one little fight with my mom again,
but then got sentenced to the gallows for bashing her head in.
I waited for Isaac to re-open my box,
but it seemed he was busy pimpin' on some young fox.
If anything, I could say he seemed rather chipper,
but he turned into a knock-off of Jack the Ripper.
I pulled up to his shop after another gore-fest
and I yelled to my friend, "Killing you would be best."
People think this is great, yet on the contrary:
This story proves that excess gore isn't scary.
{{by-cpwuser|Newwaveknight1}}