A Clown's Mistake

A Clown’s Mistake

I awoke with a blinding pain in my head. It took all of my strength to open my eyes and focus on my surroundings. My vision blurry, I could barely make out where I was. It looked like…a tent.

“You okay?” I heard a voice ask off to my immediate right. I turned my head towards the voice and raised my eyebrows in polite shock.

There stood a dwarf, surely no bigger than a stout ten year old, in a cowboy outfit complete with boots and spurs holding a large bucket of water. With trembling arms, he had the bucket poised over me as though he was about to dump it over my head.

“Hey lady, you okay?” he repeated.

“Yeah, I’m alright.”

“What are you doing in here? You sick or something?”

“No, I’m not sick. Someone hit me and knocked me out.”

The small cowboy couldn’t hide his surprise at my answer. Quickly, he set the large bucket down and asked me if I remembered all that had happened.

I nodded my head and sat up, anxious to tell him how I came to be unconscious in this tent.

*                              *                              *                              *

It was my first day on the job. A clown for a traveling circus. Donned in a bright blue and yellow clown costume fully equipped with a fluffy red wig, I knew I was a sight to be had. I looked like an evil Ronald McDonald. I was supposed to meet some other clowns in the main ring for rehearsal but I got lost on the large property. After walking in circles, I came across a big burgundy tent that had bright light pouring from its entrance flap. I went in. Perhaps someone was inside who could give me directions.

Seated at a vanity stationed in the corner of the tent was a man in a tacky pink robe applying lipstick. Oh, he was hideous. He had droopy green eyes and a huge brown mole on his forehead. But what really struck me was his big bushy black beard.

I swallowed my nervousness and called out, “Excuse me sir, but-”

“What!?” the man yelled at me, his voice harsh and  angry. “How dare you say that to me!”

Needless to say, I was confused. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t mean to be-”

“You don’t mean to be what? Rude? Because you are!”

"How am I being rude? I said ‘sir’. I thought that’s how you addressed men when you want to be respectful,” I replied, irritated by such an irrelevant argument. What was wrong with this guy?

“Oh my goodness!” The mole-man jumped up and strode over to me. With a beefy finger, he jabbed me in the chest. “Have you no shame?”

With a sassy roll of my eyes, I responded, “Look, mister, I don’t know what’s your problem. Is your wife not giving you enough attention at home? Is that why you have to be Mr. Macho on the job? You’re just a bully!”

“That’s it! I’ve had it!” he yelled. “I’m going to knock you into next Tuesday!”

I was appalled. Here this humongous, ugly man wearing a God awful pink robe was threatening to hit me! A girl! In a cheap clown suit, no less. All I wanted was directions to the main ring. This was turning out to be the worse first day on a job ever.

With as much courage as I could muster, I said, “Look here, dude, if you lay one finger on me-”

I never got a chance to finish my idle threat. That bushy bearded  bastard had knocked me out.

*                              *                              *                              *

“So that’s what happened. If I ever see that jerk again, I’ll have him fired! And arrested!”

I glanced at my little cowboy friend to find him grinning at me. I asked him what was funny.

“This ‘man’ had a bushy beard and a big mole on his forehead you say?”

I nodded. “That’s the one. You know him?”

With a broad grin, he responded. “Yes I do. That’s Margaret. She’s our Bearded Lady.”  Finally, he succumbed to the laughter he had been trying to stifle. After a moment he added, “She’s a wee bit sensitive.”

Stunned at this revelation and finally understanding the magnitude of my mistake, the only retort I could utter was, “…..oh…..”