Texas Terror on Four Wheels: Coin-Tossing Clown Car Maniac Brands Homeless in Bizarre Heatwave Rampage.
What started as a bizarre heatwave prank has spiraled into a full-blown urban legend, a cryptid on wheels, a flaming nickel nightmare. And now, after weeks of clown-fueled chaos, Texas law enforcement has confirmed what no one could have imagined:
The man behind the clown paint and searing coin assaults is none other than 70-year-old former adult film icon… Eunefolk Umana.
Yes. That Eunefolk Umana. Star of Peeformance Art, three-time winner of the Golden Stream Lifetime Achievement Award, and self-proclaimed “liquid legend.”
But retirement didn’t sit well with Umana. After disappearing from the adult film world in 2024 under mysterious circumstances (last seen running naked into a Dollar General muttering about “crypto hydration”), many assumed he was either dead, in hiding, or working at a kombucha distillery in Oregon. No one guessed he was in Texas — building an insane coin-heating clown war machine in an abandoned Dave & Buster’s parking lot.
Locals began reporting the attacks weeks ago: a clown car tearing through city streets like a squeaky Batmobile, blasting circus music from a warped cassette tape and hurling blistering hot coins at unsuspecting homeless people. Victims were left not only with burn wounds but branded foreheads — a smoldering Bitcoin symbol, charred into the skin like some cultish currency mark.
When finally apprehended by a SWAT team disguised as Ringling Bros interns, Eunefolk reportedly screamed,
“You fools! They needed to FEEL the economy! I gave them change!”
Police recovered his clown car, which contained:
- 742 melted quarters
- An Easy-Bake Oven hooked to a deep-cycle car battery
- Five tubes of clown white, laced with what appeared to be caffeine powder and deer antler spray
- A manifesto titled “The Clownomicon: Economic Redemption Through Thermodynamic Capitalism”
Psychologists are baffled. “This is either the most complex mental break in circus history or the dumbest revolution ever attempted,” said Dr. Carol Sneed of UT Austin.
Meanwhile, a surprising number of branded individuals have begun referring to themselves as “The Scorched”, claiming they were chosen by Eunefolk to carry out his prophecy of a “fiery fiscal reckoning.” Some have taken to the streets wearing fake clown noses and distributing “justice nickels.”
The mayor has declared a city-wide coin recall.
Netflix has already optioned the rights.
And as for Eunefolk? He sits in a padded cell, smiling, muttering “heads or tails, baby… heads or tails…” while flipping a still-warm Susan B. Anthony coin.
One thing’s for certain:
In Texas, change doesn’t come easy.
It comes hot.
And it comes… in a clown car.
Texas Terror on Four Wheels: Coin-Tossing Clown Car Maniac Brands Homeless in Bizarre Heatwave Rampage.
Part. 2 The Great Clown Car Breakout: Eunefolk Umana Escapes Federal Prison During Jailhouse Talent Show”
DATE: July 23rd
LOCATION: The Lone Star Correctional Facility, 34 miles outside of Waco
SITUATION: Completely out of control
It was supposed to be a low-stakes evening.
A morale-booster.
The warden’s idea: “Let the inmates express themselves.”
Nobody expected that idea would lead to the most flamboyant federal prison escape in modern U.S. history.
THE SETUP:
The Lone Star Penitentiary’s Annual Inmate Talent Show.
Theme: “Stars Behind Bars: Dreams Deferred.”
Acts included:
- A kazoo trio doing “Stairway to Heaven”
- One guy miming the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand
- And then… Inmate #CL-100: Eunefolk Umana
The lights dimmed. Smoke machines activated (unapproved). A single spotlight hit the stage.
Enter: Eunefolk.
Wearing a full sequin clown suit fashioned from commissary snack wrappers and dental floss, Eunefolk stood onstage holding… a banjo. But instead of playing it, he bit it in half. Sparks flew. A small fire started. The audience (inmates, guards, and an utterly horrified parole board rep) gasped.
Suddenly, a midget clown car EXPLODED THROUGH THE BACK WALL OF THE PRISON AUDITORIUM, honking Beethoven’s Fifth in airhorn tones.
From inside the car, emerged seven smaller clowns — later identified as members of a traveling underground circus called “Cirque du Psyché.” They threw cream pies laced with chloroform, launched flaming juggling pins at the guards, and tossed branded Sacagawea dollars at the audience as a distraction.
Eunefolk dove into the car — or rather, the car absorbed him, because it had a hydraulic hatch in the roof that slurped him in like a burrito.
Then they were gone.
Out through the smoking hole in the wall, over the razor wire (the clown car inexplicably had jet thrusters), and into the night — leaving only the scent of burnt rubber, glitter, and raw ambition.
CURRENT STATUS:
- Federal Clown Threat Level: RAINBOW
- Last seen: Driving south toward the Mexico border, tossing flaming pennies out the window and screaming, “TAXATION IS INFLAMMATION!”
- FBI Response: Task Force “Project: Jesterstorm” has been assembled, led by a retired mime assassin named Marcellus “The Silence” Finch.
- Public Reaction: TikTok is flooded with #BrandaleroChallenge videos, mostly teens slapping hot coins on their foreheads while blasting circus music. The Surgeon General has begged them to stop.
THE PROPHECY CONTINUES…
In a grainy livestream last night — broadcast from an unknown bunker lit by birthday candles — Eunefolk declared:
“You locked up the man, but not the movement! I am the Laughing Liberation! I am the Fiscal Flame! I AM… THE RAINMAKER OF RECESSIONS!”
Then he blew a raspberry into the camera and vanished in a cloud of vape smoke shaped like Ronald Reagan’s face.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Next time: The Clown Underground, the rise of The Scorched Army, and a final showdown on the world’s largest coin-operated Ferris wheel…