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name years later, Sparkie Malarkey Duh Clown. Just a
        few weeks after leaving my first experience donning
        the nose and my son’s oversized 16 shoes worn

        backwards, I heard about a celebration of Emmett
        Kelly in Houston, Missouri.
          I got into my car, dressed in a consignment-shop,
        square dance dress and makeup, along with  a
        borrowed hat to head to this little village in the Ozark
        Mountains.  Missouri  cattle  country  is  a  beautiful
        place, with rolling hills and wild flowers everywhere
        and  also boasts the hometown of Emmett Kelly. Of
        course Emmett grew up near the railroad tracks on a
        farm with "I would bet" lots of cows! I haven’t checked
        that, so don’t quote me. When I arrived to this one-
        road, historic town, I parked behind  an old-time
        pharmacy, Forbes! I sat in my car as I viewed people,
        and vendors and a handful of burly clowns standing
        right  across  the  street.  Every  shy  bone  in  my  body
        went into full gear and as I stepped out of my car with
        only one foot, I began to reenter my car with two feet
        to drive all the way back home. I was NOT going out
        there…too scary….too scary.

          Suddenly, one of the male clowns turned and
        yelled, "Hey Girl Clown!" (not sure how politically
        correct that would  have been today, but I was not
        offended…I was just shy). I waved and still moved to
        get back into my car. But Marcoh would have NONE
        of that. He rushed across the street, walked right up
        to me and  said, "Come on,  Girl….we need  you!" The
        rest is history. Mark Forbes had to be one of the most
        energetic, lovely people I have ever met. He was loud
        and boisterous and had the most contagious laugh,
        a little lisp and a big heart. My friend died way too
        young, but he will never be forgotten. Even today, I
        park behind his old business and I yell to the heavens,
        "MARCOH" and I believe I can actually hear him yell
        from heaven, "POLO!"
          Marcoh, Rich the Clown, Rufus D. Dufus and some
        others pushed me onto a flatbed stage and said, "We
        will whisper what we want you to say."

          I stuttered, I stammered….I said what they said and
        people laughed and laughed…I suppose my naivety
        was hilarious. Suddenly, I felt the magic, I felt the
        energy that can only come from a group of silly  


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