Don’t Bother, They’re Here

 “Guess what, Hon? They’re here!” you said, referring to the clowns. They were pounding on our door. You were tearing around trying to straighten the place up while I stood there completely still. We were tired, smiling with relief.

“There should always be clowns,” you said, pouring out the gin.

I had recently been thinking, aren’t we a pair? And here were our clowns, just like before.

“Get your sorry old selves in here and have a look at this mess,” I said, ushering them in, telling them to sit on the stained sofa, not to bother removing their coats.

 

Photo Credit: Tony Young