Sad Face the Clown was no stranger to the dark. He’d lived in it for many, many years. His life was a colourful pop of magic tricks and children’s smiles. He did birthday parties mostly. It was nice. The kids loved his antics. They couldn’t get enough of Happy Face the Clown and his bag of delights.

 It was good that he could bring them happiness. After the shows he’d sit alone in the dark, waiting for some of that happy to reach him.

A little boy caught him once. His name was Bobby or Brady, something starting with a B. “Why are you crying, Happy Face?” he asked. “Your face is sad now.”

His face was puckered into a little frown, his mouth open just so. Still his cheeks glowed with the innocence of childhood. If only Sad Face co...

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