Clown school posed little challenge for young Hank. Though his parents didn’t approve of his choices, they understood his passion. 

At his own birthday parties as a child, Hank would perform for the other children. Any chance he’d get, he would dress in wacky outfits and wear face paint. It felt, to him, that he was born a clown.

 

Only eighteen years old, he received from headmaster Pobbles the honor of Top Fool at his school, an idol the other clowns looked up to. They all learned and benefitted from his unique brand of shenanigan. All but the Bozos.

The Bozos were the equivalent of a gang. Dark makeup, insult humor, and weapons for juggling were a sure sign of a Bozo.

Choo-Choo was the leader of the group of miscreants. She desired to take Hank down in the most vicious way possible. Target his glaring weakness.

Hank was only a first year. Most clowns come into school with a clown name already, but Hank told the headmaster that he couldn’t settle on a name. Choo-Choo saw this as an advantage. As the youngest clown to ever become Top Fool, he was also the only one without a clown name.

In the hallway, the Bozos gathered outside a classroom to wait for the Fool. A smaller clown than most, Hank was pushed and kicked around with ease. The Bozos sprayed grease on his outfit, juggled knives around him and laughed maniacally at him. 

 

Choo-Choo stepped forward and said, “Well done HANK. Can’t believe we have our first non-clown Top Fool.”

Hank was bruised all over and covered in grease, but the greatest pain was Choo-Choo’s words.

He skipped class and went to his dorm to recover. “The Bozo’s are right.” he thought. “I can’t be ‘Hank the Clown’.”

The next morning, Hank sadly packed everything he had into a tiny, joke suitcase that fit between his fingers. Had anyone been there to see it, they may have relieved themselves from laughter.

Hank gave up clown-hood and over the next ten years worked on himself. He actually went on to start a family and have a pretty successful career in bodybuilding.

On the day of his son’s first birthday, the clown he hired fell ill. There was no stand-in.

Hank knew there was only one thing he could do. He found that tiny suitcase and donned the attire of a life once known. It fit snugly, as he had grown much since last wearing it.

 

All the children passed out from laughter from his performance. The audience remaining were the breathless mothers, and a couple of the kids' fathers.

Hank heard an exchange from one of the parents and knew his fate was sealed. He would return to clown life and take on the Bozos.

“What a hunk!” a mother said to Hank’s wife.

Overhearing this, one of the fathers turned and laughed, “You mean, a Honk?!”