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We’ve all tried it. You see some clown juggling for spare change, and you find three random objects on the ground, so you say, "Hey, what’s the harm. I think I’ll have a go at it." Grasping two objects in your right hand and one in the other, you casually throw one up into the air, then another from your left hand. Probably the first time you didn’t get it exactly: you threw the second ball incorrectly or even missed the first one. Who knows? Perhaps some of you were lucky enough to stop there. Others, like I, were more persistant, coaxed by our friends and our own will power to practice and improve. Once you’d learned three balls it got even worse. By then your friends could do four or five balls and you felt obligated to do likewise. So you practiced and you practiced, then you went to sleep, got up, and practiced some more. Maybe you even improved. But all was well, it was just a hobby after all. Then some wise-guy got clubs. They juggled and they got good at them and they learned to pass, but they wanted more people to pass clubs with, so they convinced you to get some yourself. And you learned and you improved and eventually you picked up passing. Then some wise-guy got a unicycle. So you figured, one wheel, some balance, it can’t be THAT hard, and you went to a bicycle shop and got your own unicycle. And you practiced and you practiced, then you went to sleep, got up, and practiced some more. Then someone got a clown suit. And you figured, "Well, I’m juggling and I’m unicycling already, I might as well get one." So you buy a clown suit and you wear it everywhere you go (on your unicycle, of course) and you juggle all the time. Then all your old friends say you’re weird and start avoiding you. So you join a circus where people appreciate your talents. You make new friends with other freaks and start wearing clown makeup to go with your clown suit. Then you start to get creative. First you wonder if it’s possible to unicycle off a cliff while passing clubs with someone, open a parachute still passing clubs in the freefall, and land on the ground unscathed and already unicycling anew while keeping the eight club pattern going. So you learn to skydive. Then you wonder what would happen if you replaced the parachute with a big umbrella and the unicycle with a mule on rollorblades. And instead of passing clubs, pass live baby puppies and do that while reciting the Illiad from memmory in Arabic. Of course, you think that would be cooler if you could teach the mule to juggle bananas and sing the theme to Cheers, so you do. But naturally after many attempts, something is bound to go wrong. You land with your left leg twisted behind your head in a huge pile of mules, puppies, and bananas and the giant umbrella you thought would break your fall seems rather uncomfortable when it’s stuck up your butt. By then you are in agonizing pain and fall into a coma. When you wake up you find that you speak with a slur, juggle with a funny kink in your lefthanded club throw, and have forgotten Arabic. To top it all off, the circus has left you behind and you are out of a job. So, now a homeless freak in a clown suit, you wander the streets of some large city juggling for money. Then some kid sees you and has a go at it himself. |
