DES MOINES, Iowa — A group of young mystery solvers and their plucky pet dog stripped alternative-metal band Slipknot of their trademark masks last week while trying to stop development of an abandoned county fair lot, law enforcement officials confirmed.
“We just figured… you know, a group of grown men in masks, hanging out at an abandoned fairground… they had to be up to no good,” said Greg Bones, the fair-haired leader of the group of teen sleuths. “After a brief chase — which took us through a haunted house, over a roller coaster, and onto a bumper car track — we finally caught up with them as they were playing their heavy music to a crowd of scary looking people.”
With Slipknot’s performance scheduled for the abandoned county fair cornfield more than six months ago, band members were unclear why the group of teenagers pursued them.
“Those kids had been fucking bothering us all day, man. All we wanted was to avoid them,” said percussionist Shawn “Clown” Crahan. “Then this big-ass dog just turns up outta nowhere and starts talking shit with this giant cotton candy machine, and we got fucking stuck there while they ripped off our masks. It was bullshit.”
Upon arrival, local authorities took the band into custody, deferring to the judgment of the teens.
“Honestly, these kids seem to really know what they are about,” said one officer, seemingly unconcerned with the extrajudicial nature of proceedings. “We smelled the distinct aroma of marijuana as soon as we showed up, so we needed to take somebody in.”
Bespectacled teen Wilma Bunkley offered a deeper look into the group’s reasoning for unmasking and apprehending the band.
“These guys are clearly using these masks to play on local legends of living scarecrows and bondage clowns. They’re trying to drive people away from the fairgrounds, so they can buy up the land for cheap and turn it into a shopping center,” Bunkley said. “The same exact thing happened with Rob Zombie, when he played in a haunted mansion over on Dead Man’s Cliff.”
For his part, the happy-go-lucky group’s great dane admitted he’d been suspicious of the group since their breakout release, Iowa, in 2001.
“Re rhink rhese guy rarr no good,” the dog said. “Rhy do rhey rneed nine reople rin rhe band? Rit’s ruspicious.”
Piling into their brightly painted van before leaving the scene, however, the teens and their dog seemed unconcerned that the band has appeared publicly without their masks for over a decade.