Stephen King. It (№ 29767)

Still, he was ready to run - would run in a second or two, when his mental switchboard had dealt with the shock those two shiny yellow eyes had given him. He felt the rough surface of the macadam under his fingers, and the thin sheet of cold water flowing around them. He saw himself getting up and backing away, and that was when a voice - a perfectly reasonable and rather pleasant voice - spoke to him from inside the stormdrain. There was a clown in the stormdrain.
Still, he was ready to run - run immediately, without looking back, when its internal regulator recovered from the shock produced sparkling yellow eyes. He felt the rough surface of gravel and cold water with your fingers. He had already seen rises and retires, and then a voice - a perfectly reasonable and rather pleasant voice told him from there: "hi, Georgie". In the ditch was a clown.