The Clown's Wig

"Puh-leez didi. For me?" my sister asks me with her pouting face, her large, puppy dog eyes, and her adorable baby language. How could she not understand that stealing the clown's wig isn't something that decent children should do? I sigh, accepting my defeat. Yayy! Didhi's the best!" she says, jumping up and down on her ridiculous ballet shoes. I creep up behind the clown in the red coat, green stockings and wait for the right moment to strike. My sister waves her hands at me, smiling like a maniac. I frantically put my finger to my lips, telling her to shut up and go away. She doesn't get the hint. Sisters! The clown was now entertaining a couple of children by juggling a dozen paper cups, as the children burst out in barrels of laughter.

I shudder. How could they find that funny? An idea hits me. I pinch the frightening clown, hard, in the back. He yelps and turns back abruptly with such speed that the red and green striped hat he is wearing falls right off his head. Thankfully, I was agile enough to jump up high, grab the rainbow colored wig and run for my life. The clown sees me and cries out ‘Thief! Thief!’ But everyone is too busy observing the shiny, bald, scalp and snickering to themselves and my sister exclaims ‘Victory !! Victory!’ as she trots behind me.. Mum's going to kill me, I mutter to myself as, I reach the exit, panting like crazy. My mad sister arrives a few minutes later, twirling around and screaming ‘Woohoo!’ The people stare at us like we are monkeys escaping from a circus. Technically, we were in a circus, so that might actually be true . For my sister only. I hand her the dandruff-infested wig and say, 'Got what you want? my sister pouts and her and eyebrows knitting against each other, she says "I nevel wanted a wigh. I wanth the clownn's hath!" "What!?"