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Circus Clowns
It was a bitch of a hot day and showing houses in this heat was not making it any less bitchy. Yet another 90+ day!
My buddy, Dale, called me.
Dale: “Beers?”
Me: “Definitely!”
We met at our favorite watering hole downtown.
He bitched about his grueling, thankless work as a copywriter at a radio station. He was really smart and, somewhat, socially awkward. Good guy, though.
We got a pitcher of our local brew and talked about life.
Two sweet young lovelies walked by. I invited them, almost as a reaction. “Join us, ladies?”
They looked us over — a curious, handsome, sexy guy and a long hair that definitely had possibilities.
They both worked at the local enormous insurance company in downtown. Dale and I would rather slit our wrists before being trapped in there all day.
They asked, “What you guys do?” Dale let me handle it.
“Circus clowns.” And I left it at that.
I could see the bewilderment on their faces. Then, the cute redhead said, “No. Really?”
I said, “Yeah, we are just passing through with the circus.”
“Dale is actually the only white circus clown that has ever been invited to work…
