Damned Dignity

Of Clowns and Keane

It is only natural that I remark upon Keane's more amusing adventures (or misadventures) as I do the exciting escapades.  I should not wish to be unfair to myself, or to him, in not highlighting that well-stocked humour buried beneath a more refined surface.
Even so, there are times I believe my dearest companion took matters a little too far.
"Mrs. McCarthy will not appreciate you using her lipstick."
"I will buy her another."  Keane replied, leaning nearer to the mirror as he slid yet another cosmetic over his face.  "This tube is almost empty, anyway."
"And how much of that did you use yourself?"
"My dear Lawrence, what little faith you have in me.  Do pass the blue chalk."  I did so, if begrudgingly, the wiped my fingers across my trousers in light, blue streaks.
Not that it made the slightest difference.
"We look like we belong in a police court. You do know what I will say, don't you?  'Yes, your honour, I know how unsightly it may seem, but it was really his idea.'"
"How immature."
"Says the man with one, two, three...how many scarves do you have tucked into that pocket?"
"Only seven.  I had intended to find eight, but Mrs. McCarthy would not let me use her woolen one she wears at Christmas."
"I wonder why."
"She would not even relent when I told her it was for the greatest of causes."
"Because sneaking into a circus is a good cause?"
"Sneaking into a circus to find a possible arsonist, Lawrence.  If you are going to rebuke me, you might at least be factually accurate.  There, I think that should do it.  Your turn."  Keane stepped away from the mirror looking...well...utterly un-Keane-like.  While naturally pale to the point of near transparency, his sharp cheekbones and jaw were caked with white paint.  The blue chalk had been smeared around his eyes, both accentuating there colour as well as stifling it.  Mrs. McCarthy's lipstick had not been used only to dramatically enlarge the size of Keane's mouth, but also to redden the end of his nose.
To think, when next I looked in the mirror, my own features would be similarly distorted.
Keane shoved a stool behind my knees and I sat.
"Who called you in this time?  Was it the police or someone else?"
"The lion tamer drew my attention to the incidents, filling the gaps a local paper occasionally leaves."
"That was good of him."
"What makes you believe the lion tamer is a man?  Really, Lawrence, of all people, I thought you would have a more open mind for such things as women advancement in the workforce."
"I apologise for not remaining up to date with carnival protocol."
"Forgiven.  Chin up, if you would be so kind."  I did so, ripping my head up until all I could see of Keane was the sharp, yellow curls of his wig.
"I still don't understand why we have to be clowns.  Our humour tends to be rather dry and sarcastic, while clowns have always favour...well..."
"Farce?  Yes, I considered that, but do you know how to eat fire or walk on a tightrope?"  I admitted they were not, in fact, points of reference on my resume, lowly soul that I was.
Imagine, a writer who was not also proficient on the trapise.
Shameful.
I squirmed slightly as a bit of white muck slid up my nostrils.
"What are we to do then, as clowns, that is?  Pull down our trousers and laugh at each other's pants?"
"Really, Lawrence, such remarks are beneath you."  My pants were also beneath my trousers, but that did not make them any less valuable.  "I was rather thinking I could teach you to juggle.  It isn't so very hard and, if that does not work and the monkey runs away, then we could consider your suggestion."
"I—did you say monkey?"
"Chin up, Lawrence."
"But you mentioned a monkey."
"So I did.  Are you particularly opposed?"  I shrugged, forcing a line of blue to stray up my forehead and Keane to curse bitterly.
If ever I forgot he had been a sailor, those sharp, hissed words soon reminded me, snapping in an instant, only to curl gradually into calm.
"What have you read in the papers?"
"Only what you showed me."  I said, snorting when the paint wandered a little too far into my right nostril.  "A few canopies burned down, a trailer caught alight during a performance—"
"And a body."
"I saw nothing about a body."
"That is a new development." Keane admitted. "However, it does make our efforts more vital."