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The Clown in real Life

The Clown in real Life

By Andre Atmaja Pandu PratamaPublished 26 days ago 3 min read
Ronald The Clown

It was one of those ordinary, gray Tuesday mornings when I first saw the clown. I was on my usual commute to work, sipping on a lukewarm coffee and mentally preparing for another day of office drudgery. As the bus rattled to a stop, I looked out the window and saw him—bright red nose, oversized shoes, and a rainbow-colored wig. He was standing on the corner, juggling what looked like rubber chickens.

At first, I thought he was some kind of street performer, maybe someone who had taken a wrong turn from a children’s party. But then I noticed something odd. The clown wasn’t smiling. In fact, he looked kind of... lost.

I shrugged it off, figuring it was just another weird city moment, and went about my day. But the clown stuck in my mind. By the end of the week, I’d seen him three more times, always in different spots around town. He never seemed to be performing for anyone. He was just there, a splash of chaotic color in the mundane cityscape.

Curiosity got the better of me one Friday evening. I was heading home, exhausted and craving my couch, when I saw him again, sitting on a bench and staring at a melting ice cream cone in his hand. I decided to approach him.

“Hey there,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Are you okay?”

The clown looked up, his eyes tired and surprisingly sad. “Do I look okay?” he asked, his voice muffled by the large, fake teeth glued to his mouth.

“Well, not really,” I admitted. “What’s your story?”

He sighed, a long, theatrical sigh that would have been funny if it weren’t so genuine. “I’m Ronald,” he said, extending a gloved hand. “Ronald McFuddy. Professional clown.”

“Nice to meet you, Ronald. I’m Jake,” I replied, shaking his hand.

Ronald explained that he used to work for a big entertainment company, performing at birthday parties, fairs, and even some low-budget TV shows. But the gigs had dried up, and he was struggling to find work. He’d kept the costume because, as he put it, “Once a clown, always a clown.”

“So why do you keep wandering around the city?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I guess I’m looking for my next act. Or maybe just a place where I fit in. It’s hard to blend in when you’re dressed like this, you know?”

We chatted for a while, and I found myself feeling sorry for Ronald. He wasn’t just a clown in costume; he was a man who’d devoted his life to making others laugh, only to find himself out of place in the real world. It was strangely poetic and kind of heartbreaking.

As we parted ways, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there had to be something I could do to help him. Over the weekend, I brainstormed and finally came up with an idea. The following Monday, I visited my boss and pitched a new marketing campaign for our company—using Ronald as our mascot. It was a bit of a gamble, but I argued that his unique look and charisma could attract attention and humanize our brand.

To my surprise, my boss loved the idea. Within a week, Ronald was in our office, fully employed and with a new lease on life. He was a hit at promotional events, his sad clown act turning into a quirky, beloved character that people couldn’t get enough of.

As for me, I felt like I’d done something good. In the end, Ronald found his place, and our company got a boost. It was a win-win. Now, every time I see him juggling rubber chickens or handing out flyers with a big, genuine smile, I remember that sometimes, all it takes to change a life is a bit of curiosity and a willingness to help.

So, if you ever see a clown looking lost, maybe take a moment to ask them their story. You never know how it might turn out.

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