A Giggling Success

Paint a Scene: Diane Parties with W.C! Day 3 prompt- objects: clown, phone, children
situation: arranging entertainment for a party

Flash Fiction: 384 words


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A Giggling Success

         You may think it’s easy to line up a clown for a children’s birthday party. Think again! Bubble Nose was booked for the next three months, Laughing Feet had retired, Fuddy Duddy came across as being as much fun as a hermit crab in the middle of the daytime, and Sappy Sam was drunk at 10:00 in the morning on the day I called. I hung up the phone and poured my own drink, Seven-Up and lemonade mixed half and half. Yum!

         I kicked off my shoes, wiggled my toes, did two touch-the-toes while reclining on my lounge chair, and then sat back and thought about the situation. Fuddy Duddy or nothing. Which was better?

         I sipped a good third of my drink and shut my eyes, trying not to think about the look on my daughter’s face when I told her that I couldn’t find a clown to come to her party. Would she cry, or worse, would she get that trembly little lip that made me cry?

         Darn! I had to get a clown. I just had to, unless . . . Where did it say a mother couldn’t be a clown? I could read a book about clown tricks. I could rent a costume for the day. Sure, why not?

         And so that’s the line-up for how I got myself into this situation. Now I stand here, and the balloon isn’t turning into a giraffe, my daughter’s lip is starting to tremble, and her friends are looking at me like I’m a FAILURE.

         “AhHHHHHH!” I start to cry. Eleven sweet little six-year-olds rush to my side and start patting me.

         “That’s OK, Mommy,” says my daughter without the tremble in her lip.

         “We think you’re funny,” say a chorus of others.

         The girls are all smiling at me, but I have failed. I can’t clown worth. . .

         “I know what we’ll do,” I say to the girls. “I’m a lousy clown, but I bet you’re better clowns than I am. Who wants their face painted? Let’s all be clowns!”

         The girls flock to my side, their eyes glowing, happy. I paint cheeks assembly line, then noses – one, two, three, four, five, six . . .

         In twenty minutes twelve clowns are painted and silly. Laughter jiggles the house; the clown party, remarkably, is a giggling success.



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