“Come on, make me laugh.”

“No.”

“Make me laugh.”

“No.”

After a pause, Derrick repeated, “Make me laugh.”

Wendell sighed, “No. I’m off.”

“So. Make me laugh.”

A tired hand sliding over his face, smearing the grease paint, Wendell reiterated his position, “No. Go away.”

“Come on,” Derrick urged, poking his friend with a friendly finger of pestering, “Make me laugh.”

“No,” came the sullen response.

“Oh,” Derrick exclaimed, swiping the bright red, plastic nose, “Got your nose!”

“See, made yourself laugh. Now go away.”

Derrick sat back and pouted, “It’s not the same. You do it.” He tossed back the nose, which Wendell promptly pelted back at him.

“Take off.”

“Heh, that was a little funny, eh?”

“No.”

Then Derrick got a not-so-bright idea. Tossing the bag of long, skinny balloons Derrick tried, “Make me laugh. Here, use a balloon.”

Wendell used a balloon. But, it wasn’t funny. Derrick won’t talk about it, but he kind of shudders now when he sees balloons.