Pals call me Drifter Willie. I’ve been with every traveling circus in the country. Sometimes twice. That’s the handy thing about being a clown - folks find it hard to remember just what you looked like. They only remember that you were around for a while, and then that trapeze gal was found behind a wagon with her neck all twisted, and then they were down a clown a few days later. Or had they been short one clown for longer? Hard to say.
Then they get to talking about that new guy. The one who kept to himself. Anyone ever see him without his makeup?