Class Clown

"Excuse me, are you Jim Maloney?" said a perky voice behind him.

Jim turned to find a short, blonde girl holding a microphone in her small hand. Her brown puppy dog eyes sparked with the excitement of meeting a celebrity; and Jim could tell she was trying to keep a squeal from erupting out from behind her nervous smile. Oh no, not another one.

"Uh, depends on which Jim Maloney you're looking for," he answered, hoping to throw her off.

"North Hamster High School. Class of '01. You made three teachers quit; four teachers cry, and only one of them was female; you put two gym teachers in therapy; and you single-handedly TP'd the entire girls' locker room! Dude, you're a legend!"

Jim winced with each statistic that flew out of the perky girl's companion. The kid was a total geek. Frizzy head of hair bordering on an Afro, acne patches resembling the surface of the moon, and a mouth full of metal that was colored lime green. An attempt at coolness? Here was another worshiper trying to make a mark on his pathetic four years of hell by copying Jim's reputation as a class clown.

His antics during school had only resulted in heartache and sorrow. He was so busy thinking up his next prank that he had no time for schoolwork; thus, his grades fell to a steady F. Flunking high school left him hopeless for any chance at college. Even the North Hamster Community College turned him down. They told him they had already filled all the open slots for Irish applicants, but Jim knew the real truth. They feared for the safety and sanity of their professors.

When it came to girls, all the luck passed him by. He blamed it on the locker room prank and the time he gift-wrapped all the toilets in the girls' bathroom. Although, he had a strong alibi for the latter, so most people thought it was the work of a copycat. Only Jenny Prezzo really knew it was Jim, and he suspected she passed along the info to all the girls in school. No, life had not been easy for Jim Maloney, the class clown of '01.

"It's not really that impressive, guys," Jim tried to reason. "Class clowns are statistically known for becoming losers who have no life and still live with their parents after graduation. It's not just a label; it's a problem."

By now, the acne kid had whipped up the video camera he was carrying, and the girl with the microphone was holding it out to Jim, smiling towards the camera all the while.

"Well, thanks for those words of wisdom, Mr. Maloney. Once again, this is Barbie Waters reporting for the Hamster Wheel," the girl said in her perky voice.

"Seriously!" Jim said, leaning into the camera. "If you or someone you know has a clowning problem, please call 1-800-555-CLOWN."

The teenagers rolled their eyes and started to walk away.

"They will help you get serious!" Jim yelled at them, straining to keep in the camera's view.

Bethany Bachman writes in Philadelphia and has a strong dislike for class clowns. Spitballs landing in hair, nuff said.


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