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...