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Pico Pingafria is a character role-played by travisrashguard.

Pico is the son of deceased clown Giblets and his former wife, an office water cooler. His growth from birth into full adult occurred at a rapid pace. Initially, Pico avoided the clowns as a whole, having been warned against associating with them. Eventually, though, he embraced being a clown just like his father had been.

Clown-Mime War[]

When all-out five-year war broke out between the clowns and the mimes, Pico heeded the draft, honoring his clown heritage despite not having been a clown as long as others had. Unfortunately, Pico lost both his legs during the war as a casualty. When the war ended, some clowns returned home to Los Santos, and Pico was among them.

Life in Los Santos, 2024[]

Pico has at least thus far proven less aggressive than his father had been, and has been skeptical of the fledgling New Clown Order, to date refraining from signing its Clown Code document.

Narratives Post 3.0[]

December 2023

The sun crests over a fresh horizon as the U.C.F. 'Born To Yuck' slips gently into a packed dock at Fort Baxter. The United Clown Federation is going to war. Two clowns begin their descent across the gangway, one following the other desperately as they make their way through an energetic plaza of clown soldiers preparing for the war. The pair weave their way in and out of the organized chaos around them and find their way to a small barracks with the letters C.A.S.E.S. emblazoned across the heavy lead door. The leader casually punches a few digits into a keypad nearby and opens the door. Inside, a small group of clowns sit elbow to elbow in a cramped auditorium perched above a poorly lit podium. The leader gestures towards an empty seat, as the other takes it. The small audience stares awkwardly at an empty stage, which stares awkwardly back at them. Suddenly the lights come up.

Chris Angel appears out of thin air in front of the podium.

“Everyone, on behalf of the Chris Angel School for the Mentally Gifted. I’d like to congratulate each and every one of you. Today, you all graduate.”

The auditorium is silent for a moment until the small crowd erupts into cheers. After a moment, Chris gestures with his hand to silence the room.

“But now you become soldiers. I’d like to personally welcome you to the Chris Angel Super Elite Squad. Here you will learn how to harness the power of your mind to overcome that of the mime. You will learn techniques such as, but not limited to, Remote Viewing, Mind-Body Manipulation, Phasing through objects, cloud bursting, mind control, animal communication, telekinesis, and, of course, invisibility, levitation, mime staring…”

Fade to black.

January 1st, 2028

A middle-aged Pico stares despondently at a small bird eating popcorn from the street a few feet away. He throws a crumpled up piece of paper at the bird, which pays it no mind. He then retrieves an old acoustic guitar from a tattered hardshell case. He tosses the case down towards the bird, which, quite irritated at this point, flies off in annoyance. The case bounces open and inside, a large piece of cardboard reading “Giblets the Magnificunt” and “Anything Helps” perches haphazardly taped to the inside of the lid.

He slips on a faded, orange-tipped clown mask and a purple tophat. He begins tuning the guitar. No sooner than starting, he stops. There is a sweet, foul smell in the air that can only mean one thing. Mimes. He looks over his shoulder and sees a figure in the distance. It’s standing as still as a statue. He turns with an effort, and locks eyes with the creature. For a long moment they stare. Sweat begins to bead on the creature's forehead as he starts to pant in exhaustion. Another long moment. His eyes begin to bulge slightly as the color bleeds from his face. Just then a single bird shit lands squarely between Pico's eyes. The concentration is broken, the psychic battle is suddenly over. The bird has returned. Just then the mime slinks away into a nearby alley and the danger is gone. As the sun sets in Vespucci, Pico pulls out a rag and wipes the bird droppings from his forehead. As he slips the guitar back into the case he says, “It’s never going to end, is it?” to himself as he slings the guitar case over the rusty old wheelchair. He lights a joint and slowly begins to roll his way home. To Grapeseed.

Quotes[]

Trivia[]

Clowns of NoPixel
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