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prance_legolasNow, may I present to you, for your viewing pleasure, the One, the Only, the Most Fabulous, the Most Fantastic, Right in front of You this Very Instant....
Chapter 4 The Greatest Show on Earth
Yes Dear comes home Wednesday evening sporting four, count ‘em, FOUR tickets to the Bi-lo Center for next Saturday. Front row seats, to be exact, to the matinee performance of “The Greatest Show on Earth.”
“Whooopeee!” shouts Lil’ Pip, dancing around.
“Whut?” asks the Prance, uncomprehending. “Whut?”
“We’re going to the CIRCUS!” she shouts, locking arms with him and spinning him around in a circle.
He follows the movements of her dance, grinning madly, caught up in her excitement. As they spin he inquires again, “Whut’z a seerkus?”
She laughs at him, stopping her spinning and turning him to face her, grabbing him by both shoulders.
“A circus, precioussssss,” she teases, “is a show that you go to that has all kinds of wild animals, and....”
“Like da zew, u meen?” he cuts in, thinking maybe he’s ‘been there and done that’ already since he watches ‘Pee Bea Ess’ and they have wild animal shows on there all the time. Even Sesame Street and Mister Rogers have shown clips of the zoo.
“No, no, not like the zoo,” she says. “These animals are special. They can do tricks and things. There are elephants who can play basketball, and the horses dance and walk around on their back legs. The tigers jump through flaming hoops and things like that.”
“Woew!” exclaims the Prance. “We hav oliphants een Meedle-erth, buet dey doen’t noew hoew tu plae baeskitbaell.” The Prance is very familiar with basketball, as he has watched many a game this winter with Yes Dear from the rocking chair in the den.
“There are acrobats, and trapeze artists....”
“Arteestz?” he interrupts. “I lub aert! Due dey paynt wile u wach dem?”
“No, dummy,” she replies, thumping him on the chest, “Trapeze artists fly through the air high above the ground, turning somersaults and things.”
“Like buddrfliez?” he asks, confused.
“Nevermind,” she answers, “you’ll see. There are also motorcycle riders, and a tightrope walker, and clowns....”
“Cloewnz?” the Prance gulps. “I doen’t like cloewnz.”
“Why not, Legolas?” I ask. I didn’t think he even knew what a clown was, much less knew enough to have an opinion of them.
“Cloewnz ar skeerie,” he says with a shudder. “Dey maek me git guusepeemplz.”
“No, they aren’t!” Lil’ Pip scoffs. “Clowns are funny. They have make-believe fights and wear pants that are too big so they keep falling down.”
“Enough already,” I tell them both. “Off to wash for supper.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The week passes by quickly, at least for me. Legolas and Lil’ Pip would beg to differ. They spend most of the time looking for advertisements for the show on the TV and thumbing through the books about the circus that I drug home from the library.
Soon, the big day is here. Time for “The Greatest Show on Earth.”
Traffic around the arena is terrible. There isn’t a parking garage, and the folks in the neighboring houses often provide spaces in driveways and front lawns—for a price.
Legolas is already caught up in the excitement. “We kin paerk dere,” he says, pointing to a spot curbside, unfortunately marked with yellow paint and directly in front of a fire hydrant. Yes Dear passes it up. Thinking maybe Yes Dear’s human ears are failing him, Legolas raises his voice as he points to a spot on the front lawn of a house with a meticulously groomed yard covered in a rich shade of bright green winter rye grass.
“Hoew abot dere?!” he invites.
Yes Dear rolls his eyes and keeps going. There’s a woman in a bright yellow raincoat standing in the road ahead, waving a homemade orange traffic wand built from a piece of rolled up orange construction paper, gesturing wildly to get our attention and pointing off to her left.
“Iz she a cloewn?” asks the Prance to no one in particular. “She forgoet her maekuep.”
She IS quite comical, especially since it’s very sunny outside and there’s not a drop of rain for miles. Yes Dear follows her crazy gesticulations, and soon we’re parked in what I assume to be the woman’s back yard. She comes to the driver’s side window and announces, “That’ll be five dollars.”
Yes Dear makes a face but coughs up the bill. He’s tired of the traffic already. We climb out of the car and begin to do our last minute check.
“Money?” asks Yes Dear.
“Check,” I answer, patting my the front right pocket of my jeans.
“Tickets?” he asks again.
“Check,” I answer, patting my left jacket pocket.
He begins to head for the sidewalk. Lil’ Pip begins her list.
“Tissues?” she asks.
“Check,” I say, feeling in my right jacket pocket for the handy travel pack.
“Cough drops?
“Check,” also located in the pocket with the tissues. Lil’ Pip heads for her place beside her Daddy.
Legolas is standing beside the rear door of the car, staring at me with a puzzled expression on his fair face.
“What’s the matter with you?” I inquire.
“I wuz wundring eef u haed a plaec tu puet my koemb.”
Sighing, I wonder how he’ll live without it long enough for me to get it into my pocket. I reach out my hand palm-up for him to hand it over. He takes one last quick go through his immaculate blond locks with the comb, using the side-view mirror of the car, then hands it over with a sigh of his own and turns to join the rest of the family.
The funny thing is, he’s got four pockets of his own in the blue jeans he’s wearing. Maybe they’re too tight for the comb to fit comfortably, I think to myself. With a quick glance, I size him up. The jeans ARE tight, but not too tight for a comb to fit in the back pocket. I think he just wants to be a part of the pocket check brigade myself.
Soon we’re standing in the mob of parents and screaming youngsters waiting to enter the arena. There’s a little boy of about three years old in line behind me who grasps the back hem of my jacket every time we move forward up the forty or so stairs to the top where the entrance is located. Thinking how I miss the times when Lil’ Pip was small, I look over to see that Legolas is having his own set of difficulties with the steps.
There’s little girl about four years old in the cutest pink princess outfit standing behind him. On her head is the most elaborate pink plastic princess crown I have ever seen. It’s holding the masses of curls atop her head in the most princess-like arrangement of hairstyles since the last Little Miss USA pageant. Every time she ascends a step, she carefully lifts the hem of her pink princess gown with both tiny hands so that she can see her little matching pink ballet slippers. As she looks back up, the pink plastic crown gives the Prance a nice little goose right in the rear. This has been going on for at least fifteen steps, and I don’t see it stopping before the fortieth one is finally attained. I have a hard time controlling my giggles. Legolas just shrugs and grins, squinching his eyes shut as she gets him once again.
I hold the four tickets out to the man with the scanner, who runs the laser light over them quickly and efficiently. Each of us steps through the turnstiles; of course, Legolas has to pause and see if the bar will go around backwards as well.
Once inside, we make our way through the mob to our section. A nice gentleman in a maroon polo shirt checks our seat numbers and shows us where to find them. All three rings have performers interacting with the crowd as a warm-up already. In the first ring, the audience members are doing a version of country line dancing. In the center ring, a man with a scruffy black dog is trying to get the dog to climb into a suitcase, but the dog is running into the crowd and then, as the man searches for him, the dog slips up behind him and knocks him down repeatedly. In the third ring, a troop of acrobats are lining children up in a row and leaping over them, turning somersaults in the air.
I find it impossible to keep my eyes on more than one thing at the time. I glance over at Legolas, who’s watching everything at once in rapt attention, mouth gaping open. We finally get to the front row and scramble over each other until everyone’s satisfied with the seating arrangements. Legolas hasn’t taken his eyes off the happenings in front of us once the whole time. It takes a tiny push to get him to sit down.
“I would like a snowcone,” says Lil’ Pip. “Dad, will you go with me to get one?”
“Sure,” says Yes Dear. He glances at Legolas and decides this is not the best time to interrupt. “You want anything?” he asks me.
“How about a drink and some cotton candy?” I ask. Yes Dear makes a face. Cotton candy is NOT on his list of favorites. He’s a sausage dog kind of guy.
They’re gone for about ten minutes before I realize I still have all of the tickets in my pocket. Thinking they might be in the lobby but unable to get back to the seats without a ticket, I turn to tell Legolas that I’ll be right back. He nods without taking his eyes off the action in all three rings.
I run into them outside the bathrooms. Handing them the tickets, I take a moment myself to get ready for the show. When I return to my seat, the arena is already darkened and the parade has begun. Elephants and horses, clowns and dancing girls, acrobats and tightrope walkers, everyone is making their way around the arena for the opening number. By the time I can find my seat again, the first act is underway.
“Where’s Legolas?” I ask Yes Dear as I plop into my seat. “I hate that he’s missing this.”
“I thought he went to the bathroom when you did,” answers Yes Dear.
“No, I left him here staring at the goings-on in all three rings for the pre-show. You mean he wasn’t here when you got back?”
“No. He was already gone.”
Reaching into my pocket, I realize I never gave a ticket to Legolas. Poor thing, he had to go, and now he’s missed the first two numbers because he hasn’t got a ticket to get back in. I should have asked him about the bathroom when I went to find Yes Dear and Lil’ Pip before.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Yes Dear, handing over my bag of cotton candy, the big baby blue top hat that came with it still attached. Lil’ Pip quickly confiscates the hat, placing it upon her own head.
“Cool, Mom!” she says.
I make my way to the lobby, but Legolas is nowhere in sight. I hang around outside the men’s room, thinking maybe he’s still in there, though I wonder what could possibly take him this long since I still have his comb conveniently tucked into my jacket pocket. After a good ten minutes go by, I’m starting to worry. I decide the best plan of action is to go get Yes Dear and have him come check the men’s room to see if Legolas is alright.
Returning to my seat, I note that the Prance has not come back on his own while I was scooping out the men’s room. There’s a clown act currently going on in the ring directly in front of us, and I think to myself that maybe it’s a good thing he’s not returned yet. There are about ten clowns carrying large inflated beach balls of all colors, weaving in and out of each other and doing the wave as they carry the balls around. The colors and movements are really quite fluid and pretty, and sort of relaxing in a way. As I reach for Yes Dear’s arm, intending to ask him to check the bathroom for me, the third clown from the front of the line catches my eye.
She’s dressed in a rainbow striped dress, not much longer than a tunic really, all purples and oranges and greens and reds and yellows and blues. The stripes run vertically, making her look even thinner and taller than she naturally is. She has on a pair of bright orange tights, and a red hat with holes cut in it so that her pigtails can stick out on either side. Her shoes are not as large as most clown shoes usually are, but the bright red color matches her hat well.
What strikes me as funny about her and makes my eyes focus on her alone is the way she continually looks at the other clowns, almost as if this is her first time doing the routine. She appears to be carefully gauging her actions; every once in awhile she steps off with the right foot when she should have used the left, though quickly correcting herself and keeping up. She laughs in all the right places, even though a little behind the other clowns.
A new grad from clown school, I think to myself. Well, she’s a natural!
As the act ends and all the clowns run out of the arena to the left, I watch as three of the other clowns clap her on the back, congratulating her on her performance.
I turn to Yes Dear, handing him Legolas’ ticket and asking him about that bathroom check for me, now getting a little worried because Legolas still has not come back. I fear that he may have gotten turned around in the vast arena and is wandering around looking for his seat.
The trapeze artists do their high-flying act, the elephants come on and show their stuff. Still no Legolas. Now there’s no Yes Dear either.
In another five minutes I’m getting a bit desperate. Lil’ Pip is enjoying the show so much I’m reluctant to ask her to get up with me and leave to look for the guys, though I think that’s exactly what I’ll be forced to do soon. I wonder if maybe something’s happened in the bathroom, and that Yes Dear is hoping I will come to look for him because he can’t come to look for me. I have the mind of a mother, and right now it’s running rampant, beginning to do all the stranger-danger and evil bad guy things again.
About the time I’m ready to gather up our things to go, Yes Dear reappears.
“Did you find him?” I ask, trying to control the urgency and panic in my voice.
“No. Not a sign of him,” he answers. “I went ahead and alerted the employees assigned to our section area, but I think the best thing we can do for now is just stay put.”
As I begin to protest, my befuddled brain registers the second entrance of the clown troupe. The tall skinny girl clown is back, this time with a really overweight lady clown and a medium-sized male clown. The two trim and fit clowns are trying to convince the overweight clown to work out on the exercise equipment located in the ring. As the overweight clown finally agrees to try the treadmill machine, the female clown with the pigtails turns directly towards me and makes eye contact. She waves. Just a tiny little sort of hey-it’s-really-me sort of wave, not something anyone else in the audience will notice. And then it hits me.
The female clown isn’t really a female, or a clown, at all.
“Oh dear God,” I hear Yes Dear gulp beside me.
“Hey, Mom, isn’t that...?” whispers Lil’ Pip.
All I can think of to do is give a tiny little wave back.
To be continued....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I just wanted to add that the details about the jeans that Legolas was wearing are brought to you by the ever-lovely best beta ever![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
puterpatty, who just wanted to know, "Exactly how tight WERE his jeans anyway????"
Chapter 4 The Greatest Show on Earth
Yes Dear comes home Wednesday evening sporting four, count ‘em, FOUR tickets to the Bi-lo Center for next Saturday. Front row seats, to be exact, to the matinee performance of “The Greatest Show on Earth.”
“Whooopeee!” shouts Lil’ Pip, dancing around.
“Whut?” asks the Prance, uncomprehending. “Whut?”
“We’re going to the CIRCUS!” she shouts, locking arms with him and spinning him around in a circle.
He follows the movements of her dance, grinning madly, caught up in her excitement. As they spin he inquires again, “Whut’z a seerkus?”
She laughs at him, stopping her spinning and turning him to face her, grabbing him by both shoulders.
“A circus, precioussssss,” she teases, “is a show that you go to that has all kinds of wild animals, and....”
“Like da zew, u meen?” he cuts in, thinking maybe he’s ‘been there and done that’ already since he watches ‘Pee Bea Ess’ and they have wild animal shows on there all the time. Even Sesame Street and Mister Rogers have shown clips of the zoo.
“No, no, not like the zoo,” she says. “These animals are special. They can do tricks and things. There are elephants who can play basketball, and the horses dance and walk around on their back legs. The tigers jump through flaming hoops and things like that.”
“Woew!” exclaims the Prance. “We hav oliphants een Meedle-erth, buet dey doen’t noew hoew tu plae baeskitbaell.” The Prance is very familiar with basketball, as he has watched many a game this winter with Yes Dear from the rocking chair in the den.
“There are acrobats, and trapeze artists....”
“Arteestz?” he interrupts. “I lub aert! Due dey paynt wile u wach dem?”
“No, dummy,” she replies, thumping him on the chest, “Trapeze artists fly through the air high above the ground, turning somersaults and things.”
“Like buddrfliez?” he asks, confused.
“Nevermind,” she answers, “you’ll see. There are also motorcycle riders, and a tightrope walker, and clowns....”
“Cloewnz?” the Prance gulps. “I doen’t like cloewnz.”
“Why not, Legolas?” I ask. I didn’t think he even knew what a clown was, much less knew enough to have an opinion of them.
“Cloewnz ar skeerie,” he says with a shudder. “Dey maek me git guusepeemplz.”
“No, they aren’t!” Lil’ Pip scoffs. “Clowns are funny. They have make-believe fights and wear pants that are too big so they keep falling down.”
“Enough already,” I tell them both. “Off to wash for supper.”
The week passes by quickly, at least for me. Legolas and Lil’ Pip would beg to differ. They spend most of the time looking for advertisements for the show on the TV and thumbing through the books about the circus that I drug home from the library.
Soon, the big day is here. Time for “The Greatest Show on Earth.”
Traffic around the arena is terrible. There isn’t a parking garage, and the folks in the neighboring houses often provide spaces in driveways and front lawns—for a price.
Legolas is already caught up in the excitement. “We kin paerk dere,” he says, pointing to a spot curbside, unfortunately marked with yellow paint and directly in front of a fire hydrant. Yes Dear passes it up. Thinking maybe Yes Dear’s human ears are failing him, Legolas raises his voice as he points to a spot on the front lawn of a house with a meticulously groomed yard covered in a rich shade of bright green winter rye grass.
“Hoew abot dere?!” he invites.
Yes Dear rolls his eyes and keeps going. There’s a woman in a bright yellow raincoat standing in the road ahead, waving a homemade orange traffic wand built from a piece of rolled up orange construction paper, gesturing wildly to get our attention and pointing off to her left.
“Iz she a cloewn?” asks the Prance to no one in particular. “She forgoet her maekuep.”
She IS quite comical, especially since it’s very sunny outside and there’s not a drop of rain for miles. Yes Dear follows her crazy gesticulations, and soon we’re parked in what I assume to be the woman’s back yard. She comes to the driver’s side window and announces, “That’ll be five dollars.”
Yes Dear makes a face but coughs up the bill. He’s tired of the traffic already. We climb out of the car and begin to do our last minute check.
“Money?” asks Yes Dear.
“Check,” I answer, patting my the front right pocket of my jeans.
“Tickets?” he asks again.
“Check,” I answer, patting my left jacket pocket.
He begins to head for the sidewalk. Lil’ Pip begins her list.
“Tissues?” she asks.
“Check,” I say, feeling in my right jacket pocket for the handy travel pack.
“Cough drops?
“Check,” also located in the pocket with the tissues. Lil’ Pip heads for her place beside her Daddy.
Legolas is standing beside the rear door of the car, staring at me with a puzzled expression on his fair face.
“What’s the matter with you?” I inquire.
“I wuz wundring eef u haed a plaec tu puet my koemb.”
Sighing, I wonder how he’ll live without it long enough for me to get it into my pocket. I reach out my hand palm-up for him to hand it over. He takes one last quick go through his immaculate blond locks with the comb, using the side-view mirror of the car, then hands it over with a sigh of his own and turns to join the rest of the family.
The funny thing is, he’s got four pockets of his own in the blue jeans he’s wearing. Maybe they’re too tight for the comb to fit comfortably, I think to myself. With a quick glance, I size him up. The jeans ARE tight, but not too tight for a comb to fit in the back pocket. I think he just wants to be a part of the pocket check brigade myself.
Soon we’re standing in the mob of parents and screaming youngsters waiting to enter the arena. There’s a little boy of about three years old in line behind me who grasps the back hem of my jacket every time we move forward up the forty or so stairs to the top where the entrance is located. Thinking how I miss the times when Lil’ Pip was small, I look over to see that Legolas is having his own set of difficulties with the steps.
There’s little girl about four years old in the cutest pink princess outfit standing behind him. On her head is the most elaborate pink plastic princess crown I have ever seen. It’s holding the masses of curls atop her head in the most princess-like arrangement of hairstyles since the last Little Miss USA pageant. Every time she ascends a step, she carefully lifts the hem of her pink princess gown with both tiny hands so that she can see her little matching pink ballet slippers. As she looks back up, the pink plastic crown gives the Prance a nice little goose right in the rear. This has been going on for at least fifteen steps, and I don’t see it stopping before the fortieth one is finally attained. I have a hard time controlling my giggles. Legolas just shrugs and grins, squinching his eyes shut as she gets him once again.
I hold the four tickets out to the man with the scanner, who runs the laser light over them quickly and efficiently. Each of us steps through the turnstiles; of course, Legolas has to pause and see if the bar will go around backwards as well.
Once inside, we make our way through the mob to our section. A nice gentleman in a maroon polo shirt checks our seat numbers and shows us where to find them. All three rings have performers interacting with the crowd as a warm-up already. In the first ring, the audience members are doing a version of country line dancing. In the center ring, a man with a scruffy black dog is trying to get the dog to climb into a suitcase, but the dog is running into the crowd and then, as the man searches for him, the dog slips up behind him and knocks him down repeatedly. In the third ring, a troop of acrobats are lining children up in a row and leaping over them, turning somersaults in the air.
I find it impossible to keep my eyes on more than one thing at the time. I glance over at Legolas, who’s watching everything at once in rapt attention, mouth gaping open. We finally get to the front row and scramble over each other until everyone’s satisfied with the seating arrangements. Legolas hasn’t taken his eyes off the happenings in front of us once the whole time. It takes a tiny push to get him to sit down.
“I would like a snowcone,” says Lil’ Pip. “Dad, will you go with me to get one?”
“Sure,” says Yes Dear. He glances at Legolas and decides this is not the best time to interrupt. “You want anything?” he asks me.
“How about a drink and some cotton candy?” I ask. Yes Dear makes a face. Cotton candy is NOT on his list of favorites. He’s a sausage dog kind of guy.
They’re gone for about ten minutes before I realize I still have all of the tickets in my pocket. Thinking they might be in the lobby but unable to get back to the seats without a ticket, I turn to tell Legolas that I’ll be right back. He nods without taking his eyes off the action in all three rings.
I run into them outside the bathrooms. Handing them the tickets, I take a moment myself to get ready for the show. When I return to my seat, the arena is already darkened and the parade has begun. Elephants and horses, clowns and dancing girls, acrobats and tightrope walkers, everyone is making their way around the arena for the opening number. By the time I can find my seat again, the first act is underway.
“Where’s Legolas?” I ask Yes Dear as I plop into my seat. “I hate that he’s missing this.”
“I thought he went to the bathroom when you did,” answers Yes Dear.
“No, I left him here staring at the goings-on in all three rings for the pre-show. You mean he wasn’t here when you got back?”
“No. He was already gone.”
Reaching into my pocket, I realize I never gave a ticket to Legolas. Poor thing, he had to go, and now he’s missed the first two numbers because he hasn’t got a ticket to get back in. I should have asked him about the bathroom when I went to find Yes Dear and Lil’ Pip before.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Yes Dear, handing over my bag of cotton candy, the big baby blue top hat that came with it still attached. Lil’ Pip quickly confiscates the hat, placing it upon her own head.
“Cool, Mom!” she says.
I make my way to the lobby, but Legolas is nowhere in sight. I hang around outside the men’s room, thinking maybe he’s still in there, though I wonder what could possibly take him this long since I still have his comb conveniently tucked into my jacket pocket. After a good ten minutes go by, I’m starting to worry. I decide the best plan of action is to go get Yes Dear and have him come check the men’s room to see if Legolas is alright.
Returning to my seat, I note that the Prance has not come back on his own while I was scooping out the men’s room. There’s a clown act currently going on in the ring directly in front of us, and I think to myself that maybe it’s a good thing he’s not returned yet. There are about ten clowns carrying large inflated beach balls of all colors, weaving in and out of each other and doing the wave as they carry the balls around. The colors and movements are really quite fluid and pretty, and sort of relaxing in a way. As I reach for Yes Dear’s arm, intending to ask him to check the bathroom for me, the third clown from the front of the line catches my eye.
She’s dressed in a rainbow striped dress, not much longer than a tunic really, all purples and oranges and greens and reds and yellows and blues. The stripes run vertically, making her look even thinner and taller than she naturally is. She has on a pair of bright orange tights, and a red hat with holes cut in it so that her pigtails can stick out on either side. Her shoes are not as large as most clown shoes usually are, but the bright red color matches her hat well.
What strikes me as funny about her and makes my eyes focus on her alone is the way she continually looks at the other clowns, almost as if this is her first time doing the routine. She appears to be carefully gauging her actions; every once in awhile she steps off with the right foot when she should have used the left, though quickly correcting herself and keeping up. She laughs in all the right places, even though a little behind the other clowns.
A new grad from clown school, I think to myself. Well, she’s a natural!
As the act ends and all the clowns run out of the arena to the left, I watch as three of the other clowns clap her on the back, congratulating her on her performance.
I turn to Yes Dear, handing him Legolas’ ticket and asking him about that bathroom check for me, now getting a little worried because Legolas still has not come back. I fear that he may have gotten turned around in the vast arena and is wandering around looking for his seat.
The trapeze artists do their high-flying act, the elephants come on and show their stuff. Still no Legolas. Now there’s no Yes Dear either.
In another five minutes I’m getting a bit desperate. Lil’ Pip is enjoying the show so much I’m reluctant to ask her to get up with me and leave to look for the guys, though I think that’s exactly what I’ll be forced to do soon. I wonder if maybe something’s happened in the bathroom, and that Yes Dear is hoping I will come to look for him because he can’t come to look for me. I have the mind of a mother, and right now it’s running rampant, beginning to do all the stranger-danger and evil bad guy things again.
About the time I’m ready to gather up our things to go, Yes Dear reappears.
“Did you find him?” I ask, trying to control the urgency and panic in my voice.
“No. Not a sign of him,” he answers. “I went ahead and alerted the employees assigned to our section area, but I think the best thing we can do for now is just stay put.”
As I begin to protest, my befuddled brain registers the second entrance of the clown troupe. The tall skinny girl clown is back, this time with a really overweight lady clown and a medium-sized male clown. The two trim and fit clowns are trying to convince the overweight clown to work out on the exercise equipment located in the ring. As the overweight clown finally agrees to try the treadmill machine, the female clown with the pigtails turns directly towards me and makes eye contact. She waves. Just a tiny little sort of hey-it’s-really-me sort of wave, not something anyone else in the audience will notice. And then it hits me.
The female clown isn’t really a female, or a clown, at all.
“Oh dear God,” I hear Yes Dear gulp beside me.
“Hey, Mom, isn’t that...?” whispers Lil’ Pip.
All I can think of to do is give a tiny little wave back.
To be continued....
I just wanted to add that the details about the jeans that Legolas was wearing are brought to you by the ever-lovely best beta ever
puterpatty, who just wanted to know, "Exactly how tight WERE his jeans anyway????"
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: April 14th, 2006 03:14 am (UTC)pigtails!
*giggle*
no subject
Date: April 14th, 2006 03:48 am (UTC)OK, knowing the inside joke on clown school, I nearly fell out of my chair and busted my ass laughing....
OK, so who's the manip artist... because I REALLY want to see da Prance in his 501's... ;-)
no subject
Date: April 14th, 2006 03:49 am (UTC):::giggling like mad:::
I love this story.
no subject
Date: April 14th, 2006 11:08 am (UTC)*chuckle*
no subject
Date: April 14th, 2006 03:26 pm (UTC)Again, how tight were those jeans?
no subject
Date: April 15th, 2006 04:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: April 16th, 2006 04:25 pm (UTC)*stll giggling*
Thanks!
no subject
Date: April 18th, 2006 01:39 am (UTC)*would give lots to see that again....*
no subject
Date: April 18th, 2006 01:41 am (UTC)Yeah, 501's are just leggings with pockets, really.... ;^D
(((wait, what's the inside joke on clown school???)))
no subject
Date: April 18th, 2006 01:42 am (UTC)I'm so glad you love it! He is very special indeed.
no subject
Date: April 18th, 2006 01:43 am (UTC)More to come next time!
no subject
Date: April 18th, 2006 01:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: April 18th, 2006 01:45 am (UTC)More to come!
no subject
Date: April 18th, 2006 01:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: April 18th, 2006 01:46 am (UTC)For someone of few words and less emotion, he fit right in there like he was born to wear a smile and oversized shoes.
More coming soon!
no subject
Date: April 18th, 2006 01:47 am (UTC)*waits patiently, knowing it's too good to miss*
no subject
Date: April 18th, 2006 01:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: April 18th, 2006 02:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: November 25th, 2006 03:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: November 29th, 2006 05:26 am (UTC)I would never do anything remotely freaky or scary to you!
Here is a picture of a sweet little clown I found on the net just for you:
Apparently a man named King made him VERY FAMOUS, and now there's a book AND a MOVIE about him! His name is Pennywise, have you met him before?
If not, you SHOULD....
Is it raining there yet, luv???