I am a clown. My sight is the most frightening. My cackles bring out cries from children. Though my clothes are colorful, they don’t make others happy. I am cruel, cold-hearted, and sickening. When I make kids a balloon animal, it isn’t of a dog, flower, or a butterfly. In fact, I don’t even make balloon animals for kids. I just tell them to go away. I don’t juggle or ride unicycles, or tell jokes. I don’t sing or dance, either. I just laugh and spit and scare kids. I am a beast, a monster. But I am still a clown. My makeup doesn’t give children a joyful impression. I just slather it all over my face. I don’t care what is thought of me, I just care what others are like. Yes, I am a clown. But the joke is on you, pal.
November 8, 2011