Typical Day
Smiley the Clown is woken up at 8:00AM by the sound of the big top calliope song "Entrance of the Gladiators" chiming from his ringing cell phone.
"Smiley, it's Bea Good. I got your name from my dear friend, Penelope Pickles. Smiley, I need your help. I'm having an emergency!"
"Mrs. Good, you do know I'm a clown, not a doctor, right?"
"I know, I know. It's a clown emergency."
"Oh well, if it's a clown emergency," Smiley says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"My little Johnny B. Good's birthday is today. He's turning six. I booked him a magician. A clown magician. Rabbits, scarves, ladies cut in half and put together backward, the whole nine yards."
"Oh, you must mean the Great Copernicus."
The Great Copernicus is Smiley's biggest rival for birthday parties in the area. Copernicus takes the magic route. Smiley sticks with his traditional training from clown college, a more traditional style of pratfalls, jokes, and making fun of the parents (which always goes over big with the under-eight set).
Copernicus has no formal training and had been a plumber before he decided he could make more money as a clown. It was Copernicus who warned Smiley that this town isn't big enough for the both of them, and that Smiley should take his big nose elsewhere. They're not friends.
Mrs. Good isn't interested in the sordid details. "Yes, well Copernicus went kaput. I guess he caught some flack because some kids wound up with bites after his last flea circus trick. Anyway, he says he won't be able to make it."
"Tragic," says Smiley, wondering how many extra parties he can book, overjoyed that he'll probably be able to pay his water bill this month after all.
"Exactly. So can you come? Can you fill in?"
"Hmmm, let me check my schedule." Smiley holds his hands to the phone and looks at the framed photo of his Ringling Brothers days with the circus. Half of his old pals in the photo are still with the circus, the other half are like him, eking out a living doing what they love—making people laugh.
Smiley only has two things booked this month: a hospital visit in two weeks and a retirement home gig next Sunday. But he doesn't want to seem too eager, so after a few seconds tapping his big feet, he goes back to the phone.
"Good news, Bea, I have an opening. What time should I be there?"
"The party is in two hours, can you make it?"
"Of course I can make it, that's plenty of time."
Two hours is hardly enough time to get dressed, put on makeup and get in character before driving across town for a party. But Smiley doesn't want to let little Johnny down, so he hustles.
He puts on his layers of clothes: the funny striped bloomers that'll eventually be exposed along with the rainbow suspenders holding them up; his tights; his clown hat; and, of course, a pair of big, floppy shoes. But Smiley will wait until he arrives to change into those. He once tried driving in them, but didn't get very far.
Next comes his makeup. Smiley puts on a protective coat of moisturizer to keep his skin feeling fresh and to give something for the makeup to stick to. It also keeps his face from getting itchy.
He takes a long time putting on the white face paint, ringing his eyes and mouth, getting the lines just right for his signature style with a star in the corner of each eye. Last but not least, he puts on his big, red nose. Voila, it's showtime.
Smiley makes his grand entrance at the party, coming out of his clown car with his giant shoes squishing the whole way up the driveway. Johnny and his crowd of first grade friends run out to see Smiley, taking a break from terrorizing Bea Good's house. Bea goes, too; she's been holding in a scream ever since her great grandmother's precious china set was nearly trashed by a stray football pass.
"I came as soon as I could," Smiley says in a silly voice. "I heard a little boy named Johnny was turning sick today."
A young boy steps forward. "I'm Johnny and I'm not sick. It's my birthday."
"Oh boy, how old are you today?"
"Six," he says.
"See, I knew you were sick. Come here and let me take your temperature."
"I'm not sick, I'm six!" says Johnny, inching closer.
Smiley tries to take his temperature with a giant plastic thermometer. It beeps and he ends up pulling an impossibly long multicolored scarf out of little Johnny's ear. Johnny and the kids are delighted.
Smiley puts on a great show for the next hour and a half. He does jokes, magic, pratfalls, and a bit with Johnny's dad that makes him wear a plunger on his head. He rides a unicycle, poses for pictures with the birthday boy, and manages to finish fifty-seven assorted balloon animals (including the infamous "triple dog poodle pop").
Of course, he also makes sure to pass out more than a few business cards to the other moms at the party.
By the end of the ninety minutes, the kids are begging for more and are sad to see him go. "Mission accomplished," thinks Smiley. He collects his $200 check from Bea, who's exceedingly grateful. He then makes a grand exit out the door and into his clown car, waving out the window as he drives off into the sunset...then to the post office to pay the water bill.