Half Empty

by on April 15, 2020 :: 0 comments

A clown was sitting on the kerb outside a shop; he had his head in his hands.
Resting beside him was a coffee cup half full of gin.

A cat looked up from licking his paw. He paused and said,
What’s going on? You appear to be sulking.

The clown started shaking his head. It’s the end of the line, he said,
my life is reduced to trying to make snotty children laugh.

The cat snorted. If you don’t mind me saying, it looks like your mug is half empty.
When I’m dead I‘m having a bronze statue put up in my memory.

I could be doing something more meaningful like collecting seashells,
said the clown, or even counting egg-shaped pebbles on the beach.

Not exactly Panglossian, are you? said the cat as he trotted off.

A man wearing a red hat appeared from the shop
holding up a board with the words GIN SALE written in chalk

– Henry Bladon

editors note:

No matter how you gloss your pan, gin’s a good drink, but barely a passable polish. Squeeze the wheeze, Bozos! – mh clay

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