A little clowning around

One of my cousins, who – for the sake of family peace – shall remain nameless, was accepted into Clown College back in 1995.  So he packed his bags and headed for Florida to learn the art of goofery.

When he reported in, he was given a room in the clown dorm.  A nice room, he wrote, one that had all the niceties of home already waiting for him.  Except for an ironing board.  He checked the rest of the clown dorm, but not one room had an ironing board.

Baffled as to how he was expected to keep either his clown costume or civilian clothes pressed, he headed to the admin building to ask about this lack.

The head of the Clown College, a Professor Slappy, happily explained that none of the rooms at the clown dorm had an ironing board because all of the window sills had been made extra wide to serve as ironing surfaces.

When my cousin, baffled, asked why such an awkward arrangement, Professor Slappy hit him with a cream pie and replied:

“Because every clown has a sill for ironing, of course!”