“I hate work!” groaned the fat and flabby Fubbles to himself. He stared morosely at the colourful banners fluttering exuberantly in the smelly afternoon wind. Happy children milled about enthousiastically. A humongous bouquet of party balloons strained against their strings.
Fubbles was a lazy man. He preferred to watch TV. Unfortunately, Fubbles was the clown at Maria’s party. Fubbles looked over at the cheerful birthday girl. She had twinkling eyes, like moonlit sparkles. Even her bouncing ponytails looked happy. Maria, the birthday girl turned around. She waved merrily to him, yelling “Look! It’s Fubbles! I am so happy today!” Maria had no inkling of the disaster that would befall her soon.
Under his breath, Fubbles muttered, “What are you so happy about, silly twit?” Turning his back to her, he walked towards the clown’s stage. Squealing in childish delight, Maria ran towards Fubbles. Fubbles walked past the balloons. Maria was five steps behind him. Fubbles walked in front of the three tiered birthday cake. Maria crashed into his backside, enveloping it in a loving hug. Fubbles’ face landed in the birthday cake. The table broke, unable to support the fat clown’s weight. Maria landed on the clown’s fat and stubby legs. Maria began to wail. Fubbles was furious. Losing control of himself, he grabbed the hapless little girl violently. He slapped her so hard that her lip bled.
Maria could taste her own blood. She could smell the stale sweat from the clown who had been too lazy to bathe that day. Her cheek burned from the stinging slap. A stunned silence fell upon the crowd. Maria saw stars.
Maria’s father was livid. How dare this clown attack his daughter! He lunged at the clown, trying to expel him from the party. Fubbles fought back ferociously. All the other men pitched in to subdue the unruly clown. They had almost got him under control when he broke free. He grabbed a knife, warning them not to approach. Thankfully, at the very moment she saw the clown slap her daughter, Maria’s mother had called the police. The police arrived. In a jiffy, they handcuffed the clown.
Maria sobbed and said, “Mommy, why was the nice clown so mean?” Wiping away her daughter’s blood, Mother replied, “You cannot judge a book by its cover.”