Time to party.
The men were all gathering around the center of the bar as a large cake was wheeled out in front of them. The groom-to-be was laughing with his buddies, beer in hand, as he joked about the cartoonishly large cake. “What? Is there someone in there?”
SPLAT!
“There is!” The clown, our goat with greasepaint, cheered as he popped out of the cake with a fiddle. “I’m here to wish you good fortune on your wedding day.”
The groom stood still for a moment, only moving his eyelids to blink. “Oh, I get it. It’s some kind of toy.” He went and poked at the clown’s fuzz, giving it a slight tug.
Our clown pulled away. “This is no joke, good man,” he said. “You’re getting married tomorrow, so I’m giving you a happy night.” The clown jumped down from the previously destroyed cake and played one note on his fiddle before…
Crash!
A patron had dropped their glass mug and gave our clown a spook. His fur puffed up as his bow shifted across the strings with a shriek.
“Ha! Ha!” the groom laughed. “You look ridiculous, you cat!” He and his friends joked and pointed and made fun.
“I’m not a cat,” the clown meekly muttered. “Why don’t we get to the song.”
“Do a dance, you leprechaun!” one of the partygoers yelled.
“I’m not a leprechaun either,” the clown pouted. He ignored them and tried to play his song. He was stopped again when one of the drunken men tugged on his tail. The clown lept away with a heavy dose of blush on his face.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” they all laughed at him, making him feel an inch tall. And soon he was.
The clown scurried under the crowd to the bar where the only one who wasn’t laughing was the bartender. “I just don’t get it,” the clown said, setting the fiddle which he carried over his tiny body on the counter. “Why are they so mean? There’s a wedding tomorrow?”
“They aren’t thinking about tomorrow,” the bartender cleaned a glass. “They only think about today.”
“Huh,” the clown sighed and regained his size. Then he looked at his fiddle. “Maybe this isn’t the right tool for the job.” The clown dove back behind the bar and threw his bag of props on the counter before rejoining it. “Oh boys!” he called to the crowd. He dug in his bag and pulled out a tall unicycle. He set it on the floor and balanced himself on top of it. He was now much taller than any of the drunks. “Let’s have some fun tonight!”
The clown rode around the bar, circling the pool table among the sea of partygoers. They all laughed and cheered him on. Then the clown took out some juggling balls and tossed them around to feed their amusement. Occasionally they’d chase the clown and splash him with beer, but the clown was too high for any of them to reach.
“You boys are awfully perky,” the clown laughed. “Do you think you’ll feel this in the morning?” he asked as he dropped a ball or two on a man’s head.
The man’s laughter surely ceased. “What’s the big idea?” he moaned, rubbing his bumpy head.
“It’s just a joke,” the clown teased and proceeded to juggle one handedly. “You all love jokes, don’t you?”
“Not at my own expense,” the man exclaimed and took a soothing sip of beer, to which the clown dropped a ball in.
“Those drinks aren’t good for your health, you know,” he snickered.
“Neither are goat clowns,” he snarled and went to grab his tail again to pull him down. Luckily the clown evaded him.
“Handsy, are you?” the clown asked, continuing his juggling act. “Maybe you’ll be part of my next show.”
The other guys cracked up laughing as the groom’s drunken friend chased the clown around the bar, unable to catch him. The groom didn’t find it all too funny.
“Maybe we can slow down,” he asked.
“Finally, a voice of reason,” the clown relieved. He slowed down but the man did not, and he ran into the unicycle, knocking them both down.
“Son of a-”
“Language,” the clown raised a hand from the crash to stop any profanity. The groom’s friend did not care. He grabbed the clown and started squeezing and shaking him by the throat.
“Whoa! Whoa!” the groom intervened. “Sylis, just calm down.”
“This clown made a fool of me!” he snapped, pointing at the nuisance the groom picked up.
“That’s his job,” the groom told him and then told the clown, “I’m sorry about Sylis. He’s a bit rambunctious.”
“Don’t-Don’t worry,” the clown chuckled anxiously. Then he jumped down from the groom’s arms. “This job has its hazards.” He grabbed his props and stuffed them back into his back, which he pulled off the counter. He took out a top hat and beckoned the groom to bend down. “You’ve been such a great help, why don’t you take a prize?” And he put the top hat on the groom’s head. “Your bride will surely be lucky.”
“Thanks,” the groom snickered.
Then the clown jumped on a table next to Sylis. “You’ve helped plenty too. I hope we can do a show together again,” he smiled, having no hard feelings towards him. “I bet you’ll find someone someday,” the clown winked. “You just need to clean up your act.” He took a juggling ball out of his bag and tossed it to Sylis.
“I do have a wife,” Sylis mentioned.
“Oh,” the clown awed. “Well, clean up your act anyway. No one deserves to have their tail tugged.”
The clown jumped down from the table and pulled out his unicycle again. He adjusted it so the seat was lower to the ground. He hopped on and pedaled away, learning one more thing: being part of a show was a better experience than watching a show.