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“The Happiest Clown on the Planet”

August 10, 2016

The sad clown decided one dark day that he’d had enough. He put away his jokes in his joke bag, never to be opened again. He took off his wig, his shoes, and pants. He decided there was no reason to sing “The Clown Song Blues” anymore.

Honk honk, hee hee, tricycles, unicycles, Barnum & Bailey. Clowning around was just a cover. He couldn’t hide behind the mask anymore. The tears washed away the paint as he stood over his sink. His reflection shouted back at him that he was a failure. He tried to make them laugh, but instead he scared the daylights out of these kids. He had become the reason for nightlights. His sense of humour had become too warped. A product of extremity. A misunderstood artist. Who was he clowning for anyway? The others? Himself? He always let himself down, the others he tried to bring up.


While off colour, in myriad colours, he thought the effort would surely be understood by God. He wasn’t a nasty, evil clown. He wasn’t from Mars and he didn’t hang around sewers, except maybe his mind.

Then he realized, it was time to clean up his act and become a happy clown. He would turn down all the work he had been getting at all of the pity parties. He would finally be like his hero, the happiest clown on the planet, Ronald McDonald.

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