The urge to piss led him behind the tent. He unzipped and released.
Footsteps forced a halt to his relief.
He turned and there the Juggler stood. Three balls tossed through the air. The roar of the crowd beyond the tent walls exploded.
The juggler stepped from the shadows, his face appearing in the moonlight. Pale, bloodied, savage, evil.
It was then he realised the Juggler's tools were not balls, but skulls.
One swipe of the Juggler’s claws separated the head from the body.
His bladder let the remaining liquid free as the Juggler feasted to collect his fourth ball.