I had been in the tent for most of the afternoon, sticky from the August heat. So far, most of the applicants had been rather underwhelming.
Just then, an awkward looking figure lifted the tent flap and strode over, his oversized black shoes squeaking as he moved. I indicated toward the empty seat in front of me.
His face paint was traditional, and a frown replaced the typical goofy grin—something that just wouldn’t do.
“Could you smile for me, please?” I sighed.
The clown’s red lips peeled back to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth.
“You’re hired,” I told him.
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Stone Jaws by Evan Baughfman"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Mannequin People by Michael J. Stiehl"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Gator by Randall Andrews"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Rude Awakening by Richard Lau"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>