By Commander Keane (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (], via Wikimedia Commons(This one definitely won’t appeal to everyone, and I’m not sure about posting it. But I like it, and I’m living bravely. So here’s something for me to regret with a smile later.)

AnnaLee and Betsy could hear the muffled slaps and giggles from the room across the hall. The rhythmic bounce of bed springs was punctuated occasionally by honks and squeaks. The ladies raised their brows and rolled their eyes at one another while they waited for the clients to reach their climax with guffaws and the gushing of over-primed seltzer bottles.

Finally, the noises from the occupied room ceased. After several minutes, the door swung open and two individuals, faces painted white with garish red lips stretched into permanent grins, stepped out. They waddled down the hall in their oversized shoes and cartoonishly colorful clothes, arm in arm, satisfaction radiating off of them like heat off elephant dung.

AnnaLee and Betsy shared a glance and hiked themselves up from the velour sofa where they had been waiting. Grabbing their sponges and buckets, they walked into the room. AnnaLee wrinkled her nose at the stench of fake daisies and cheap rubber noses. Betsy stood over a pile of whipped cream and graham cracker crust ground into the carpet and sighed.

“I hate it when the clowns come. They leave such a mess.”

*7/10/17 prompt: “the clowns are coming”


2 thoughts on “Clowns

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