Perhaps you’ve heard the story of the off-duty police officer dressed as a clown who shot a man trying to rob him at gunpoint. This must be a pretty rundown neighborhood when a clown catches your eye as the wealthiest potential mugging target.
Think of all the rich clowns who are members of your country club–I’m assuming the list is pretty short. I keep a list of all my wealthy acquaintances–so I can remember who to be nice to–and not one of them is a clown by profession. Maybe I’ve been hanging out with the wrong clowns, but I assume nobody chooses clowning for the money, but rather for the pure love of making people hate you.
Maybe the robber saw the clown and thought, “Wow, that guy must be loaded. He can afford shoes twice as big as mine.” Or maybe he chose to rob the clown because he assumed the giant shoes would make running away impossible.
I imagine the robber pulled a gun and said something along the following lines:
Put your hands in the air. I don’t want any funny business.
Don’t test me. You better believe I am not clowning around.
Empty your pockets! And you better not pull out a thirty foot string of handkerchiefs!
Is that all your money? Are you sure you don’t have any coins hidden behind your ears? What about my ears?
All right, get out of the teeny tiny car! You don’t have any clown friends in the trunk, do you?
Slowly lower your balloon gun and drop it to the ground. Or if it’s a helium balloon, just let it go.
Hold still while I tie your shoes together.
You better wipe that stupid grin off your face. Seriously. Here’s a handkerchief. Wipe it off.
I’m assuming the cop/clown gained the upper hand when the robber made one of the following mistakes:
That creme pie sure looks good. Mind if I have a piece?
Sure, I guess I have time to smell your flower.