Randall's Clown

Sitting alone in the room with Mr. Andrews, tears started coming down Randall's face.  “So Randall,” asked Mr. Andrews, “we've been getting into fights lately.  I think you won this last one.”

Tears continued to roll down Randall's face.  “I wasn't fighting Chad.  I was fighting the clown.”

“So what does this clown do that you need to fight him?” asked Mr. Andrews.

“He gets me in trouble,” replied Randall.  “He hits people.  He breaks things.  And everyone thinks I'm doing it.”

Mr. Andrews pulled off his glasses and started to clean them.  His mouth tightened  into a short, grim smile.  “Can you describe this clown for me?  What does he look like?”  Randall did not respond.  More tears came rolling down his face.  “Are you sure this clown doesn't look like you?” asked Mr. Andrews.  Randall started sobbing.  He knew Mr. Andrews wasn't believing him.  He knew no one would believe him, ever.

“Alright,” said Mr. Andrews.  He stood up and turned to leave the room.  Then the clown appeared.

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