So he threatens to have his "boys" throw me out and I say, "Is that thing on your head made out of horse or cow hair?" Then he whistles and out they come... three of his "boys."
	Boys? Is that what you call these freaks? From where I'm standing I think "barrel-chested monkeys" would be a far more apt description...
	My first instinct? Open up a big 'ole can of clown whoop-ass and take these monkey-boys out! Especially the one who thinks he's in a Tarantino movie, that idiot holding the gun sideways. I hate that. What is that? But then I think about it. With the recent success of people like Conan O'Brien, Adam Sandler and Marilyn Manson, clowns are finally establishing themselves in the mainstream. Bad press is something we really don't need right now. So I swallow a humongous pill 'o pride and take one for the team.
	And now, God help me, I'm gonna have a picture of that belt-straining, jello-torso's smug grin emblazoned across my mind for all time. "I'll leave, Wally, peacefully even. But I do so for the good of all clownkind. Now you just go ahead and pay me and I'll be on my way."
	. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I've got a funny feeling I'm not getting paid.