There was once a clown who worked at a circus factory that made clown parts. This clown was a quality tester at the factory.
Her first duty in the morning was to make sure that the water-squirting carnations squirted water and that the crème pies were just the right amount of creaminess. Then she would remove her hair and nose and try on new clown hair and noses. The clown didn’t really like her own nose; it was a rubber salami. When she tested the other noses, she would think about how they set off the polka dots on her jumpsuit and the spots of color that were her cheeks.
Then she would take off her feet and put on the newest clown feet. She tested these by slipping on banana peels and falling into tubs of pudding. The larger the splash, the better the shoes. She wanted new clown feet too, hers were starting to corrode a bit.
All in all, her job bred much discontent. She was a poor clown, unable to afford the excellent and effective gadgetry that she confronted her each day. She owned a bright purple jalopy that never worked correctly and could only hold three other clowns. Eventually this clown became the driving force in what became known as the Great Balloon Animal Uprising. After this failed attempt at world domination was quashed all clowns were completely eradicated by vigilantes who were retroactively pardoned by passage of the Deharlequin Act.
The clown is dead. Long live the clown.