I walk
[upstairs, ask to use the computer, get turned down, so I walk] into the living room
(which doesn't make sense because no one really lives in there). My dad was reading the paper
on the lazy boy chair thing...the recliner, as I look at the piano. The container
[beside the piano containing the music books also] had the clown wig that I used for
Halloween resting on top of it. A light went off in my head. I grabbed the wig, ran down to my room, put on my flashing clown nose, then the wig, and came back upstairs to play the piano. Dad, sitting there, not paying much attention asks, "
Allison, why are you wearing a wig?" I
[on the piano bench] turn to face him
[on the recliner] , and he sees the flashing nose and shakes his head. I respond, "What??" "oh nothing, you're really weird, that's all." I silently agree and turn back to my music. Naturally, the first song that comes to mind, I play. Here are the lyrics:
Send in the Clowns
Isn't it rich?
Are we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground,
You in mid-air.
Send in the clowns.
Isn't it bliss?
Don't you approve?
One who keeps tearing around,
One who can't move.
Where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns.
Just when I'd stopped
Opening doors,
Finally knowing
The one that I wanted was yours,
Making my entrance again
With my usual flair,
Sure of my lines,
No one is there.
Don't you love farce?
My fault, I fear.
I thought that you'd want what I want -
Sorry, my dear.
But where are the clowns?
There ought to be clowns.
Quick, send in the clowns.
What a surprise.
Who could forsee
I'd come to feel about you
What you'd felt about me?
Why only now when i see
That you'd drifted away?
What a surprise.
What a cliche'.
Isn't it rich?
Isn't it queer?
Losing my timing this late
In my career?
And where are the clowns?
Quick, send in the clowns.
Don't bother - they're here.
~by Stephen Sondheim
And THAT my friends, is what makes me, Allison Sandra Brown, THE coolest person ever...do you not agree??