“Make me a balloon animal.”

“I’m on my smoke break, kid. Get some cake.” Chuckles takes a drag.

“Smoking’s bad for you, and my mom’s not paying you to smoke.”

“Listen up, I didn’t move to LA to listen to a kid telling me I can’t have a smoke.”

“So why did you? To Act? Act like my mom’s paying you, and make me a giraffe.”

Chuckles bends down and presses his big red nose against the boy’s face. “I know where you live and have seen where you sleep.” Chuckles flicks the cigarette on the ground.

“Know what tomorrow’s headline’s gonna be?” The smell of cigarettes and whiskey on Chuckles’ breath makes the boy want to vomit. “Clown murders family on boy’s 10th birthday. So back off.”

The tears roll down the boy’s face, but not as quickly as the pee down his leg. The other kids begin to scream and run off.

“I guess this is now a charity gig, but at least it wasn’t a total waste.” Chuckles says as he waddles towards his car and feels the bag of blow in his pocket that he had taken off the mother’s nightstand.