We never know much about the green-haired, smiley fella that enjoys looting and hanging out inside pizza boxes. Is he a child that won some kind of publicity contest to accompany the national klown military on an intergalactic massacre? A little person (klown) constantly fighting to prove himself, a Ryan Seacrest in a world of Simon Klowns? A neighbor from another planet of shorter red-nosed pranksters sent on an ambassador mission to teach his battle skills to his taller allies?
The beauty is this: it doesn’t matter. He’s adorable.
Also, you have to love a fella that gets the second best kill of the movie, wherein the most non-badass gang of bikers ever gets served.
So while we can only assume you perished in the genocidal explosion of your big top spaceship, know, Little Klown, that you will always have an admirer here in this sad, Little Klown-less world I call home.
Stand tall.
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