Clown Tale 456. The Hoopdee-Hoo

Clown tale 456.

So… I lived in brooklyn. I drove the hoopdee of hoopdees, an 81 buick that I bought for $75 off a friend. She was 2-toned, which is kind for stripped. The door had to be tied on with rope. She was a sturdy tug-boat and her favorite coup de tat was to stall out in the middle of Manhattan intersections or highways. I put a furry steering wheel cover in fuzzy blue leopard on her and hung some death token off the rearview, and named her hoop-dee-hoo. Hoop dee hoo and I were on our way to do a job. I’m in a rainbow jester dress.. rainbow jew’ry, full clown white face with painted on eyelashes and red nose. Hoop dee hoo takes me around a few blocks on our way to disembark for the day’s journey. We make it about 1/2 mile from my apt. when hoop-de-hoo decides she’d like to stop for a rest. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I have to get to this job. I’m running late, not exactly a first, and now, I need to get her up and going. What to do? I do what any person in a clown outfit would do, I get out of the car and start trying to wave cars down. What do you think happens? People smile and wave. “Oh look honey theres a clown with a stripped maroon pontiac.” “Hi clown!!” Wave kids! Wave. Wave at the clown. GODFUCKINGDAMMIT what do you think I’m staging a show? See the pontiac? See the hood up? It’s a sign, a sign I need HELP. Needless to say, this went on for 20 minutes before someone stopped. The people all passed and smiled and waved. I smoked and cursed.