To the Nail Polish Manufacturer,
I am writing to express my deepest disappointment in your nail polish entitled, “So Many Clowns.” Though I found the bronze tone of the nail polish beautiful, and the added sheen and nail strengthener a pleasant surprise, your polish did not induce the visions of multiple clowns as advertised.
I purchased your product with my husband in mind. On our first date, he took me to the circus, and promptly abandoned me in the stands. You can imagine my disappointment, being stood up on a date surrounded by children, cotton candy, and parents drowning their misery in overly salted, buttered popcorn. I had it in my head to pretend I was one of them—a miserable parent—whose child had spent the entirety of the show being preoccupied in the bathroom. I even started planning my rant to the ringmaster and how his foul cotton candy preyed upon the stomach of my imaginary child.
But then a clown took center stage.
He had a blue nose that whistled instead of honked, red hair and patchwork clothes that made him look like a ragdoll. He was attempting to set the table but everything kept going wrong. The tablecloth got stuck in the zipper of his pants, causing all the dishes to fall when he moved to retrieve a second chair. When trying to light the wick of his two candles, either his nose or hair caught on fire and, the poor clown’s flowers that were meant to be his centerpiece, were either too tall or too short for the vase.
And, despite being abandoned at the circus, I laughed.
His act ended when he set two whipped cream pies on either side of the table. Then, to my and the audience’s surprise, he started searching for his date. You can imagine how many
children wanted to join him but I was surprised by how many men and women raised their hands as well. Out of all those people, his hand stretched out toward the spotlight which was squarely focused on me.
I don’t know what moved me to join him, probably the fact that I was meant to be on a date anyway. I took that clown’s hand and he had the nerve to say, sorry I took so long. I was shocked to recognize the voice of my date, the man who’d abandoned me, coming out of this clown! We took our seats, he gestured for me to try the pie, and I decided to throw it in his face instead.
The audience laughed and I laughed because, apparently, I had thrown the pie with such force that he was thrown back in his chair, taking the silverware, uneven flowers, and table settings with him. I’ve never laughed so hard in my life, making two more decisions in that moment. One, to kiss this clown on his whipped cream covered cheek and, two, that he would be the man I married.
He died just after four years of marriage. I later learned a clown can only cheat death by fire so many times and that it was one of many occupational hazards of clowning. I was hoping that, out of all the clowns your product promises to reveal, that one of them might be him.
I painted So Many Clowns onto my fingernails and toenails, slept beside the open bottle for three nights in a row, and even shared it with some of my husband’s former coworkers. I was shocked to learn that, out of all their years in clowning, that they have never used nor have they even heard of your particular brand of nail polish. In a final attempt to induce the vision of multiple clowns, I inhaled your product, five times per nostril for good measure. I am frustrated to report that I walked away with a severe migraine and not a single clown sighting. Either rename your nail polish, “Bronze Shield Guard,” or remove it from your shelves entirely.
And, rest assured, I will be warning other members of the clown community and the widowed clowning society about your nail polish. ◆
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