Clowns are scary; not the one who showed up for Lisa’s nephew’s birthday though. He was kind of funny.
However, his shoes were the regular size; you know, the average human feet. I could tell that it was a huge let down among the children at the party.
He tried to explain that they were still at the dry-cleaners but nobody bought it, of course. I mean, what is a clown without those giant shoes?
I wanted to say to him, “You’re not a clown! You are a weird stranger just… just… you know, hanging around… who, by the way, is probably the main cause behind the sudden decrease of birthday cake slice proportions this year!”
Having said all that, he made me a balloon animal that melted my heart, so I forgave him in a split second which, incidentally, was the exact time period that the balloon lasted between my tiny paws.
So… thanks clown. Thanks for nothing.