Wednesday 28 September 2016

Tears from a Clown



Tears from a Clown ©

By Michael Casey

Let My Tears Be My Words are the first words from a poem of mine, which I’m told is very touching, the words even made a Vicar cry, Priests are much tougher as they’ve heard more Confessions. So this morning I was doing my usual routine, counting how many rubbish emails I get trying to destroy my computer. How many religious people of many faiths who were dying and wanted my help in moving 1,000,0000,0000, 000 USD if only I sent them 10 quid first in 1p coins in an old sock, and they would pray for me. The amount of folks who have stepped on the fast train to Hell is unbelievable.

So I though what should I talk to you about today, and I had no idea, then while I was thinking of plot lines for Tears for a Butcher, my next full length comic novel, which is the follow up to The Butcher The Baker and The Undertaker, while I was thinking of that a tear came to my ear, sorry eye, only Picasso has tears to his ears. So that gave me the idea to talk about tears. And yes Tears from a Clown, would be one description of myself.

So what makes you cry, the quality of my writing? You are all so cruel, you will make me cry now, if you knew the years of training I had before I could stand here naked before you. Ok I’m not naked, it’s a figure of speech, and no none of you would enjoy looking at my naked form. And yes that does make me cry, the years of kebabs and fizzy pop been wasted on your unsophisticated eyes, you would not know a great form if you saw one.

But I was side-tracked, what makes you cry? Is it the size of your pay check or the snubs you get from the girls of your dreams  who won’t go out with you because your pay check is so small. I know a man who wanted just one simple thing, to be  married and perhaps have a family. This man had loved a girl but she had not loved him, they had been friends but no more. Then one evening her mother died, they had just been to dinner and were due to see Les Miserables at the theatre, only a call came and his Cinderella had to go away.

She rung him, her mum had died, and no she did not need his help, she was prepared already. So there he was all alone, the penny had dropped, she would never be his. So perhaps full of self-pity, you can judge, the man cried, and looking up at the photo of his dead mum by the fridge made a heartfelt prayer. All I want is to be married and perhaps have a family.

No Fate is a strange thing a very strange thing. The  previous year the man had met a model a real life model in the Czech Republic while he was staying with the friend of a friend, a Gay doctor. It’s all in a Czech Story you may find it on the Internet. So this blonde model came to Birmingham and he taught her English for a month, then she went back home, never to be seen again.

So now it was a year further on, and this Joyce Grenfell like girl did not want him either, hence the tears of a clown. Now God has a sense of a humour so God heard the man’s prayers, where would the man meet the girl of his dreams? The man would meet his future wife in the only place the man visited every single day, every single day for 3 years.

His mother had died and 8 weeks later his dad had almost died, hymns had been picked for his dad’s funeral. It’s all in Padre Pio and Me on the Internet somewhere. So after his prayer by the fridge a takaway girl appeared, a little Chinese girl. He still had dreams of his Joyce Grenfill  girl, but in the end the Chinese girl won his heart, she turned out to be 10 times prettier than the Czech model.

So the man had tears of joy, his prayer by the fridge had worked, he found a bride and 2 daughters followed. And if you are wondering if this is another of my stories, and I have reached over 830 now. Then no this is no story, this is my life and it’s the story of how I finally got a wife. 

So if you want to dry those tears and banish all those fears, try saying your prayers by the fridge with your mother next to you for support. And if you don’t have a mum nor a fridge, then just pay a visit to Iceland the shop not the country.















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THIS IS MY PERSONAL PENTECOST Michael Casey from Birmingham England

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