You the table that has two girls dressed up like clowns sitting underneath a poster with the words CLOWN CLUB written in multicolored letters. "Hi," you say, "I'm Ruby Alan; I'd like to join." You don't really know why; you never particularly liked clowns, but you didn't hate or fear them either. And you do like dressing up in costumes.
"Well, hello!" says the clown dressed mainly in green and with a green wig, and white around her eyes and mouth; her voice is a deep alto with a goofy lilt. The rest of her complexion is mostly orange, and inside her white muzzle is a wide black smile that make her mouth look open. She squeezes the big red ball on her nose; a loud HONK! sounds out like a bicycle horn. "I'm Emma Shamrock, heeheeyaha. This is my co-clown Dottie, heeheeyaha." She squeezes her nose again. Honk!
The other clowngirl has a mostly white complexion, even her hands are white, with long pink fingernails. The rest of her makeup is rather simple, with high narrow eyebrows that make her look surprised, pink rouged cheeks, and a dainty red clown smile. Her nose is a sphere the size of a golf ball covered with glitter and her wig is bright red with silver highlights. "We do have a lot of fun," she says in a voice that sound like she's breathing helium. "Remember, heeheeyaha, last homecoming game and you landed that pie in the head cheerleader's face?" She squeezes her own nose; it squeaks like a baby toy.
"How could I forget, heeheeyaha," Emma giggles and honks her nose. "It was a work of art."
"Well," and Dottie turns back to you, "I'll take you back to the club building and get you started, heeheeyaha." He squeezed her nose again; it seems she and Emma do that a lot. 'They must really get into their roles,' you think.
Dotte gets up, and leads you out of the building to a small ordinary looking house a few blocks away. You step inside and see the wallpaper ceilings, and even the carpet are in a riot of multi-colored polka dots, stripes, and ty-dyed patterns. Circus calliope music is playing in the background, and all of the people inside are well-clowns.
They aren't just dressed like clowns either. They are talking to each other in silly voices, using exagerated hand expressions, punctuating their words with giggles and guffaws, and behaving well, like clowns.
One of them, a male clown with a pinkish complexion and wearing a bald head wig, turns to you and Dottie. "Got a new one for us, dottie, heeheeyaha?" he says in a deep goofy voice and squeezes his nose. HONK!
Dottie squeezes her own nose back. "Yes Sammo, heeheeyaha," she replies. "I'm just getting her ready." Beep!
She takes you to the stairway and leads you up to the second floor. You both enter a room that looks ordinary and empty, save for a chair, a desk, and some strange looking apparatus.
"That was-strange," you say. When we come in here, are we all supposed to be in costume and makeup?"
"You might say that, heeheyaha," Dottie says. Next she looks you squarely in the eyes. "Now, what kind of clown are you?"
What do you mean?" you ask.
"There are three basic types of clowns," Dottie says, her voice sounding strangely serious. "There are whitefaces like me, who are at the very top. We are the club leaders, we initiate the jokes, and act as the straight men. Then there are augustes like Emma who are sometimes the butt of joke, or sometimes turn them around on us. Then at the very bottom are the hoboes and bag ladies. They are always the butts of jokes, they do all the cleaning and dirty work at our clubhouse, usually are the most pathetic seeming. Some are cheerful, others always act sad. So, Which of these do you want to be?