First I want to address that, no, the clown I hired was not an actual clown. I admit that, and I am sorry, but we have to look at the good here.
Was he a clown? No.
Did he do funny tricks, songs or dances, as was expected? No.
Did he hurt anyone? Yes, but it wasn’t anyone in our family, so we’ll count it as a no.
Was he talented at what he did bring to the table? Absolutely.
I agree that he was absolutely not dressed appropriately for the party. He was not wearing clown pants, or pants at all, and what looked like a blonde clown wig from afar was actually a live bee hive, but was that not a sight to behold?
I remember the neighborhood kid, Jackson, yelling, “He’s got a beehive on his head!” He was so excited. Sure, one, if not many of the bees stung him, and his excitement could have been mistaken for fear due to his severe bee allergy, but that energy was infectious. Soon after he started yelling, everyone else was too.
I truly believe that more people had a good time than a bad time, or at least that there were more people not stung than there were stung, and that’s saying something considering the amount of bees in the hive. I also think you fail to see that our clown in question was not stung once. I for one, thought that was pretty impressive, and worthy of the $200.
I’ve heard the things you say about me. I’m the screw-up uncle, I’m a loose cannon, I owe you $5,000 etc. I know that you think I forgot to book an actual clown, and instead found a homeless man off the street and paid him money to pretend he was a clown, while also urging him to wear the bee hive on his head (even more amazing that he wasn’t stung), but I assure you that I booked him way in advance, so I was just as upset as you were about the whole fiasco.
I hate to say it, but I fear a bit of racism is what fueled your anger towards the man I hired. We both know he was Italian (or at least looked and smelled Italian) and that’s what really bothered you, not that he caused the neighborhood kid Jackson to be stung over 80 times, tried to kiss your wife, and yelled obscenities at all the kids.
Let’s agree to split the blame on this one 70(you)/30(me) and call the party a success. Anyways, I’m ready to accept your apology at any time. Maybe you could do it when you pay your share of the clown money and drive me to Jackson’s funeral.
P.S. I need a ride to Jackson’s funeral.