Queens & Clowns

Honkytonk Debut Stage

After clothing my sculpted body so as to protect the townspeople from my radiance, I sheepishly stepped up to the cashier.

    "Deepest apologies good wench, but you will have to accept this purchase after I have donned the garb. I cannot bear the burden of disintegrating another lovely lass with my glinting abs..."

She looks up, a blush spreading from her nose to her ears. "It is no problem...In fact, make no payment whatsoever! The greatest gift was laying eyes upon you...Simply allow me to paint a quick portrait for my boss!"

We paused, for a brief nude painting.

When we were done,I beamed from clown cheek circle (left side) to clown cheek circle (right side).

"Many thanks, fair maiden! You have tickled my pickle, and honked my donk!" I proclaimed. As I turned to propel my way out by sheer manliness, I heard her whisper how she longed for my touch.

Sighing, I shook my head. If only there was a way to tell her she was beautiful, although she did not know it! Deep down, I knew I could not turn my attentions to another woman in good faith. The emerald orbs of the beauteous wench in a sea of faces had been seared into my cosmically powerful brain.

Be still, my heart! This was not the time to entertain frivolous thoughts and distractions. I was here to work and chase my dreams. Banishing the dame from my mind, I lay my comically large hat down and began a new routine.

Closing my eyes, I channeled the spirit of a small Pomeranian. Those creatures were the sacred animals of comedy. Lowering myself to the ground on all fours, I arched my back, imagining my poofy tail in the air. Engaging my core, I trotted on the spot, as if I was a Pomeranian on a treadmill! How amusing! I chuckled to myself. Sometimes, I could not help but give myself a pat on the back for my comedic genius.

After about 2 hours of non-stop trotting, a small crowd had begun to form around me. My large hat had filled to the brim with coins and some scraps of banana peel! The banana peel was from those who truly appreciated the art – nothing meant more to a clown than an acknowledgement of artistry. It was time to pull out all the stops. In a fluid motion, I lowered my bulbous bottom to the ground heavily. Usually, one would be at risk of a bruised tailbone. However, I had an exceptionally well-filled dump truck, and took advantage of my god-given assets.
As my behind hit the floor, it bounced, sending small tremors throughout the town square. Bricks fell into place and storefronts fixed themselves.

Curse my beauty! A gasp came from the audience, as murmurs spread.

"Flawless execution, with a lovely rear to end!"

"He can dump MY truck any time..."

I suppressed a smile. I must finish my routine before revelling in praise. Now for the finishing touch.

Yapping loudly (like a Pomeranian), I wagged my tail violently, twerking as if there was no tomorrow! The audience in my periphery were blown back slightly from the force of the gale. Finally, I took a large steaming shit on the floor of the town square. Finito. Rising from all fours, I took a final bow.

Thunderous applause erupted from the large crowd that had gathered before me! Women started clamouring, pushing and clawing at each other to touch my abs. Never before had i received such adoration, such attention, such love! Just as I was signing my name on a wench's left boob with my quill (while respectfully averting my eyes), a hush fell over the crowd. I looked up.

What a queer sight!

A gangly man with sunken cheekbones and ash-blond hair had sat himself down mere centimeters away from my still-steaming turd, his shoulders slumped and his feet bare. He glowered at the audience, his piercing grey eyes scanning the crowd as a disconcerting smile spread across his face. I felt a tremor of fear in my manly abs. What sorcery was this man commanding!