DYKE CLOWN SHARE

It was the dyke clown story that got me, really made me sit up. “I got my feelings hurt last week,” she was sharing.

“This one girl I wanted, she had this friend who, like, had a fear of clowns and they were going to dress up like clowns and really freak her. She heard I used to be a clown and called me up for tips. You know, I thought at least I would be invited to help, and fuck it, I wasn’t. OK, OK. I know I should concentrate on the good side… I know she did call me up, she thought of me and all. Anyway, so I never let on about my feelings, and I told her everything… before I quit, I was…well, you all know. You can buy squeaky dog toys and stuff them in your pants, and one of them can be like the hot dog in a bun, and you can put a vibrator in there. When it drops out it wiggles all over the floor, it’s hilarious. I used to drop my pants and pull a streamer out of my pussy.”

She kept on talking, and it was good stuff, too, all about not being sure she really dug women, maybe it was those particular women, all she knew was that she liked being hit, and she wondered, did we know any straight guys, really mean ones that she could hook up with. Anyway, she’s in Orange County now.

I only half heard her, and even during the next guy, when he shared really heavy stuff, about an assisted suicide of his ex lover and how he couldn’t even make friends any more much less consider another partner, and how he had a resentment against his sponsor and he hated A.A.

All I could think about was this skinny girl before me dressed as a clown. Her drag queen hair and round face was transformed by the fright wig and the loud baggy clothes, the makeup, the funny nose. Standing on a table, maybe, pants around her bony ankles, pulling a streamer out of her pussy, as a large crowd of school age girls clapped rhythmically and roared with laughter.

I wondered why she quit?