All the Clowns in Clowntown

Story Sent in by Jane:

When I met up with Frank on our first date, he was in navy slacks and a white dress shirt with a brown stain all the way around the collar. It was as if someone had once rested a giant mug of coffee on the shirt.

I didn't want to make him self-conscious, and even though it held my attention longer than it should have, I wanted to concentrate on having a nice time with him. He came off as nice online, at any rate.

We had a good talk through drinks and most of dinner. When the shirt finally came up as a topic, he was the one who brought it up.

"Wondering about this?" he asked, "I have a confession to make: I was on a date last week and wore this shirt then."

"Oh. Okay." It was understandable that he'd also be dating around. After all, I was.

He went on, "I had a drink and I tried to do a trick but she made me laugh and it spewed all over my shirt." He laughed again, then shook. He choked out, "It was so… funny!"

He took a drink as he laughed (always a bad idea) and shut his eyes tight. He then looked at me, his head trembled, he made a gurgling sound, and his mouthful of drink poured down his chin, neck, and all over his shirt.

He laughed and laughed, then stood up and took off, presumably for the bathroom.

He came back a few minutes later, his face was clean, but his shirt was damp and stained. "I'm sorry," he said, "I was really hoping that it wouldn't happen again," he pointed at me, "But you made me laugh!"

"Sorry," I said.

"You looked at me funny," he said, "You have a funny face. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"No."

"It's a funny face," he repeated, "and it looked like a clown when you looked at me that way."

"Thanks."

He inserted his fingers into his mouth and pulled it out and wagged his tongue around. "Bla-la-la-la-la!" he said, then collapsed into laughter again. "Thank God I went to the bathroom, too," he explained, "or I'd have a big stain on the front of my pants, too!"

"That's great. Thank God, indeed."

No, there was no second date.