I remember going to see Ronald McDonald, who was making a special visit to our town for a local festival. While my younger brother and sister laughed and giggled at Ronald’s tricks, my mother whispered to my father that you could see the edge of the clown’s makeup and where his own brown hair had slipped out from under the bright red wig. Not even the chocolate milkshake I had been sipping could make it better. The moment was ruined.
Ten Clowns I Love
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