The clown we'd hired for Jimmy's birthday party came in through the back door on tiptoe. Unusual behavior. Even for a clown. What was even more unusual was when he kissed my wife.
Squarely. On the lips.
"Hey Bozo!" I shouted, pointing over my shoulder. "The party's this way."
He gave me a curious stare, eyebrow cocked. "Oh, Jesus, you've smeared your makeup," I said angrily. "Your lips look like my grandma's teeth after she applies lipstick."
"I boinked your grandma last night," the drunk clown muttered under his breath as he staggered into the kitchen.
"That would be highly unusual, clown!" I yelled after him. "She's been dead for seven years."
I flashed my wife a wicked smile.
"You know I have a thing for clowns," she said, blushing.
"You're all kinds of creepy. You know that?"
"I know." She giggled. "Ooh, look he's making balloon animals! I think that one's a snake. But why is it white?"
"My God," I said right before throwing the clown back from whence he came. "That's not a balloon, damn it!"