A mob of angry mimes gathered.  They seemed to be sharpening swords or loading pistols, I couldn’t tell.  Also, they weren’t really good mimes.  But there they were amassed outside the city, so we called an emergency meeting with the police and city manager and a retired guy who loitered at all these events.  We argued, pounded our fists on the table, but finally decided to confront our sneering striped-shirted invaders without outside help.  Yes, we were a small town, but how would that look if we asked for help?

So we met them outside the county line and they appointed a champion to confront one of ours.  Unfortunately, I was volunteered as champion and their guy was the biggest mime I’d ever seen, and not just because he wore a top hat either.  But if I was scared, well, there just wasn’t time to tremble.  He challenged me with gestures before he suddenly broke out of his invisible box and put me in a full nelson.  I hyperventilated and called out for my mother, much to her shame, until a nearby deputy tased the mime and I.  That ended it really.  Everyone shook hands after and laughed.  Even the mimes.

I just wish they’d stopped tasing us after the first ten minutes.  One might think that was the whole point of this.

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A disgraced clown turned out of a prestigious circus for his beliefs, Alexei Kalinchuk turned to the forbidden art of Ukrainian massage.  He also writes stories and one comedic crime novel (It’s Not My Cult!).