There was a man living in a small village in a very poor area of the world. Sierra Leone, perhaps, or Detroit. By a once in a lifetime chance, he got to go to the circus when it visited the fields outside his village. The man, let's call him Dave, went, and was filled with childlike wonder at every turn: The trapeze artists, the trained animals, the contortionists and the fire eaters and the sword eaters all amazed him, and when the clowns came out and tumbled and danced and threw pies and made faces he just about died with laughter.
And then one of the clowns addressed the audience, asking for volunteers to fill a two-man horse suit. A few people stood up, Dave among them, in his front row seat. The clown smoothly and cheerfully picked among them, pointing first at someone in the upper seats, saying "There's the horses head", and then at Dave, shouting "And there's the horse's ass". At which point Dave turned on his heels and quickly walked out of the circus tent, bristling with anger. He'd never felt so insulted!
And what's worse is that he had to walk away because he was going to hit the clown in the face, because he wanted so badly to say something that would sear the clown's face and shrink him down into his ridiculous oversized shoes, but he could think of nothing at all. Even now, with what the French call the spirit of the stairway descending on him, he could concieve of no retort.
And in the years following, he worked and worked in the diamond fields, or perhaps the car factories, at a slave wage, while struggling to learn to read, but with a goal burning so clearly in his mind that never once he doubted his course. Eventually he saved up enough money for a mail order education in Quick Wit Retort, which changed his life.
He learned well, prodigiously well, and soon was able to move to the big city with a scholarship to continue his studies in QWR. He achieved a doctorate in record time and opened up a business and found himself, with no resistance at all, the world leader in the field of QWR. Dave was the teacher now, his advice sought by generals and emperors from all over the world, and life was good indeed.
And one day Dave saw in his hometown paper, which he read every day, that the circus was coming back at last. So he canceled his appointments with Bruce Willis and the Pope and took a plane and a hired limousine to go to the circus. And the trapeze artists, the trained animals, the contortionists and the fire eaters and the sword eaters all did their thing, and the clowns came out and tumbled and danced and threw pies and made faces just like before.
And because Dave had assured himself a spot on the same seat as the last time, when the clown addressed the audience, asking for volunteers to fill a two-man horse suit, he was ready. He stood up, lungs on fire, face cold. The world to him seemed to slow down as the adrenaline raced through his veins: This was the fulfillment of his life. This was revenge. At last. At last the clown pointed at him and said "And there's the horses ass", and Dave let out his breath in a mighty roar:
"FUCK YOU CLOWN!"