Maxine and George Mildrazzler sat in the 7th floor suite of their well appointed building.
It was a grey, wet fall day outside, and they were both happy to be cozily enjoying their Sunday coffees on the couch, sharing sections of the Toronto Star, and basically just enjoying the heck out of each other.
From the kitchen came a huge smashing sound. They both heard it, but both made no visible sign to give the other any indication that they’d heard it.
“Corningware,” thought Maxine, immediately, while George ticked through kitchen items they owned and what they might sound like when dropped. “We should own more plastic things,” he thought.
A squeaking sound came from the kitchen; a prolonged downward tone that spoke of sorrow, embarrassment, and maybe a bit of loneliness.
A few minutes passed, and then Kumantrala the Clown appeared, juggling a vase, a plate and a butcher knife. He was very pleased; it was the first time he’d done 3 objects at once and he wanted to show what a good clown he was.
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But George and Maxine remained transfixed on their paper… she on the Travel section and he on the Entertainment section. And when Kumantrala tried to lean in closer to distract them, his huge right clown snagged the edge of the living-room carpet, and down he fell.
The vase landed in the acquarium, frightening the fish but thankfully not breaking anything. The plate smashed on the floor as the butcher knife embedded itself in the wall with a thwack, cutting the electric cord for their reading lamp as it did so.
Feeling like a very bad clown, Kumantrala ran off to hide in the front closet. For a few moments, Maxine did her level best to keep reading as both she and George avoided noticing what had just happened.
But finally, Maxine could hold back no longer. “You wanted a clown,” she said.
