We, the Clowns

Updated: 2 minutes ago

"'All together now!' The lead circus instructor tilted his head at the others. Waylon, an ornery and slightly taller clown spoke up. 'This is all we do! Practice and train, practice and train. Why can't we take some time off once in a while? I'm exhausted!'

 

The lead instructor nodded wryly; his lips perched in a smirk. "Entertain and serve!" was all Gravis shot back. Catalina, a forty-three-year-old female clown with a beguiling nature, laughed raucously. The lead instructor's famous line. Typical.

 

The instructor, whose name was Gravis, pulled and tugged at his pointy hair, the slight make-up on his face assimilating into the nature of a frown. He studied the company. They just had to be good enough. 'All together now!'

 

They had seen this every time. Working together, too rebellious to get along, too unpracticed to do things properly. But the company must survive. As Gravis said, to entertain and serve was merely their purpose in life. Waylon considered it. What was the point? All day, every day. Why be a clown for these people, when you could just eat a bagel and watch the television? Nothing mattered.

 

Catalina approached Waylon, Gravis tooting at a horn somewhere in the background. Her usual feminine nature entranced him, and he consented to be a little honest with her. 'Why, Catalina? Why do we do it?' Catalina saw the look in his eyes, aggravated and sincere, and laughed again. 'Beats me, Waylon. It's just a job we do. Gravis takes this way too seriously, anyway.' She rubbed his knee slightly, rolling her eyes.

 

Waylon sighed, hunching his six-foot-two frame on a hay bale as Catalina winked and walked away. He pulled out a joint from his overall pockets and made sure the intense little instructor Gravis was far away. Lighting the tip and inhaling, Waylon leaned back and reminisced about days and places far away. Eventually, the stars came out and he was still looking up at them, wanting more.

 

Gravis was furious. Waylon and Catalina were missing. The two had left over night, abandoning the camp in a cloud of weed smoke, no less. The nerve. Gravis had called the authorities, to very little avail, only to be told the pair hadn't broken any laws besides a little pot smoking. In Oregon, that wasn't a big deal. They had only left the circus's clown company, apparently unhappy with the way things were there.

 

Far away, Waylon looked up at the stars again the next night. Catalina was beside him, curled up in a taxicab, snoring peacefully. She had gotten tired of it, too. He thought to himself, the country scenery zipping by in the nighttime hush. Fuck this circus. He glanced once more out the window, a new world rushing past him, and smiled slightly. It was time to truly live."