NEWS FLASH - He dominated American Politics for over 40 years. He was a man to be reckoned with, a man to be appeased at all costs. He hovered metaphorically over the political landscape and was the conscience of the bad, yet the bane of the good. This was precisely the man, Charles Foster Mayne, or as he was called by his enemies, "Citizen Bonko."
Clown college had just been too difficult for Bonko. He’d flunked Grease Paint 101 and got a D- in Introduction to Little Car Cramming. He hated when the little chihuahua would jump on his back and he never could keep the red rubber nose on straight. People laughed at Bonko all right, but as a failure, not as a clown. This was a terrible blow for Bonko who had long dreamed of starring in the The Howdy Doody Show.
Bonko left college before the completion of his second year and his dream destroyed, he resigned himself to a job in his father’s Savings and Loan. His dad insisted that Bonko start at the bottom, and thus he became a teller at a rural, regional branch. Bonko was not happy at the prospects of menial labor but putting his best flat foot forward he plodded into the bank that first day.
“You must be Bonko,” said the branch manager, proffering a hand to the clown. Bonko squirted the manager in the face with a fake flower “That won’t do here Mr. Bonko," said the branch manager, taking out a handkerchief and wiping his wet brow, "this isn’t a three-ring circus, our customers expect courteous service and no surprises!" Bonko expressed his feelings with a big frown, which was met with “and, Mr. Bonko, our tellers always smile!” Bonko, forced a shallow grin on his ashen face.
The manager proceeded to show Bonko the basics of teller life, and Bonko became increasingly nervous, shaking in dishevelment.
Though a pitiful wreck, Bonko was now ready to apply his learning to the public and he took his place behind the glass partition. He barely had time to straighten his twirling bow tie when an old lady smelling of camphor and Hall’s eucalyptus cough drops went straight toward him. She was clutching a small drawstring bag and leaned on the counter close to Bonko. "Honk, Honk! greeted Bonko, once again forcing an unnatural smile on his face.
The woman jumped at this sudden greeting but managed to compose herself, “I wish to start an account please” Bonko just stared at the elderly woman with a perplexed look on his face. He suddenly started to stomp the ground with his over-sized shoes. He stopped at 10 and looked expectantly at the woman. "Not count, but account clarified the startled old lady. “I’d like to see how much interest my money can draw. Bonko thought for a moment, then a broad smile came upon his face. He pointed to the lady, then held up his right hand to indicate that she should wait, that he understood, he shuffled a bit, then stepped back, pulled out a drawstring and yanked--and down went the clown’s pants!
The old lady froze in her steps and screamed in horror. Bonko again pulled on the string and up went his pants. He held up his hands toward the lady, hoping to assuage her fears, but she took his attempts to ameliorate the situation as aggressive movements and she feared for her safety. She let out a louder scream, one that would have done Linnea Quigley proud! Bonko, frightened, shrunk his neck and head down into his over-sized outfit and hoped the camel approach would be of effect...but, it didn’t. The old lady let out a third scream queen type bellow that brought the concerned bank manager to her side to quell the fracas.
“Pervert, wolf, masher!” screeched the woman, pointing directly at the obviously shaken clown. “Bonko!” yelled the branch manager, “what have you done!” Bonko slowly rose his head above his coat collar and gave a plaintive sad face. The manager yelled again, and Bonko, now clearly frazzled, pulled first, a rose from his lapel, and then a pigeon from his pocket and with shaking hands, offered them both in succession to the bank manager.
We next see Bonko being thrown from the bank, where he picks himself off the ground, and looks around, in a hurry to re-gain his bearings. He walks over to his kiddie car, gingerly slides in and with a measure of difficulty, peddles his way home.
We see Bonko one last time many years later on his death bed. He has long since given up on being a clown and instead became a hard, calculating, right wing conservative business man (which is redundant I suppose.) He has grown rich and prosperous through selling self-help books and at his peak commanded six figures for his speaking engagements. Years later he became a popular Senator and chaired the powerful Finance Committee where he single-handed brought about sweeping changes in the banking industry. Interestingly enough, including the manner in which Bank Tellers are fired, putting the burden of proof, securely on the back of the bank.
Scandal rules his life--he marries well, to a former Vice-President's daughter--but it is a loveless marriage--he runs for President--and would have won, but he is caught in a love scandal with a female lion tamer. He moves mountains, parts seas--everyone knows and loathes the name: Charles Foster Mayne.
We see a final scene from his life: As the successful mogul dies, a red rubber objects falls from his face and rolls unnoticed, under a nightstand. He says just one word, and that one utterance keeps biographers perplexed for generations. In a faltering voice, this once again, simple, sad-sack clown whispers the name,
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What people said about Citizen Bonko on another site (2002)
Clarabell? Is that Howdy Doody? or Red Skelton? Before my time, I assure you. LOL
Hilarious and here's 10,000 gift points (w/one to grow on) to celebrate your views. From someone who remains anon just to put a smile on your face! ....
anonymous *(Yem's note By views this reviewer congratulated me on being the most viewed author on that site. 10,000 gift points is probably equivilent to about 2000 points on this site.)
I love it how you can write a comedy and put so much more into it. Charles Foster Mayne? Clarabell, umm, Rosebud? Regrets of lost youth, wondering what life could have been - just how biographical is this? This is excellent, one of the more intelligent pieces I've read on this site. I feel compelled to at least match the previous anonymous reviewer.



9 old applause
