The clown put on his makeup, staring into his mirror, moving with deliberate intent.
“You missed a spot,” said the ventriloquist dummy on the chair.
“You again?” asked the clown, turning to look but not really surprised. “Where’s your master?”
“Ha! I am my own master,” said the dummy. “The guy who plays the straight man in my act went to the bathroom.”
“Shouldn’t you rest your voice?” asked the clown.
The dummy laughed and asked, “You don’t know how this works, do you?”
“Nor do I care,” said the clown, still working on his makeup.
“You should care about more than your makeup,” advised the dummy. “The people don’t react to your face, they react to your antics.”
“What makes a wooden dummy so wise?”
“I come from a tree so I come from the earth,” he explained. “My wisdom is from direct contact with life.”
“But you have no heart. Or brain. Or lungs. Or any other organ.”
“And yet I can speak!” the dummy said, chuckling and bobbing his head on his little frame. “And yet I can think!”
“Well, the public always loves a clown,” said the clown, “while dummies are rude and disliked. Some people fear you.”
“And yet all I do is speak.”
“Exactly. All you do is speak.”
“What would you prefer I do?”
“Wash your clothes. Clean the room. Cut the grass. Juggle.”
“Morons can do all that.”
The dummy’s owner returned.
The room was quiet.
“What’s happening?” he asked of the clown.
“Ask your dummy.”
The ventriloquist looked dumbfounded.
Note: Other Imaginotions by Dr. Joe Vitale