Tragi-comedy short story about a clown

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Clown in a mugshot

250 words, not including title.

Tie your shoes, you clown

A clown's life is not extraordinary - I am the same as you, you are the same as me. Inside the ring I am the majesty; I'm the one who owns the circus, and the one you came to see. You wouldn't recognise me in the street, and I think it's better that way.

Fifteen years ago, my father, who had my job before me, was found slumped over on the makeup table of his caravan, just five minutes before he was due in the ring. There's something about seeing a dead clown that you never quite reconcile within yourself.

Naturally I have a sense of humour about such things, as I suspect the guy who built this world must have. When I went out just this morning, to get my early morning newspaper, a man shouted to me:

"Tie your shoes, you clown!"

This made me smile. Some people just like to shout at strangers, I believe.

Six months ago I saved a little girl's life - she was walking along the side of the road, kicking a stone along the kerb. The car would have struck her, but I grabbed her in the nick of time. The driver was using his telephone. I was arrested later that day: four witnesses said I tried to abduct the girl. The police came halfway through my act - an opportunity someone must have thought amusing, especially when it came to the mug shots.

I'm not extraordinary. Funny things just happen - all the time.

Clown in a mug shot

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