(Mis)adventures in Dating a Clown

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 I had forgotten all about him until a week later when he called to say that he had a present for me and asked if he could he drop if off on his way home from work.  Ok, I’ll admit it, I’m a gift whore so I said sure, but warned him that I had to leave soon.  Ten minutes later, I opened the door and discovered “Chocko” the clown.  I did what any sane person would do:  screamed and slammed the door; unfortunately I was unaware of just how effective those big ugly shoes can be as blocking devices.  He apologized for the scare, explained his real job, and handed me a small gift-wrapped box.  His parting words were:  “Call me after you watch this.”  

 I peered through the peephole to see if he had a posse of 20 other clowns crammed into his Pinto and then gingerly tore off the balloon embossed paper.  What did I find? A DVD of Clown Porn!  I guess that Chocko was promoting sex-positive clown eroticism for Humpy, Jumbo and Kinky and wanted to spread the love.

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