Shivering politely in the wings of Mister McAfee’s Travelling Circkus & Emporium, he remembered the last meal of the life once his. Provoked by the skin on his Fry’s cocoa and the meager scrapings of grapefruit marmalade, he’d mocked his mother’s nostrils – smeared carmine still with evening rouge, his uncle’s brandywined proboscis, and Little Hanna’s beet juice-splashed pug snout. Whereupon Little Hanna loosed a roar of hitherto-unsuspected magickal capacity, transmuting his nose entire. Grandmaman swept downstairs, squelched the moppet, and declared, “Florenzo Bonaventure, until your manners mend, go forth from this life, begone. Be known amongst men as Bonzo, Clown.”
Image:
Rebecca’s Novelty Importer.
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