Writing Prompt: Hello! I'm Captain Jiggles

From Writer's Digest, this week's prompt presents this bizarre scenario:

Unforeseen medical expenses arise, and you enter a bank to take out a loan. A bank teller explains that she has a “special new trainee” today who will help you in just a moment. Then a man in a full clown costume (wig, facepaint, oversized pants — the works) comes out and says, “Hello! I’m Captain Jiggles, the new loan officer, and I would be happy to help you now.” Write this scene.

I decided to write out this scene using a character from my detective novel, a rather cynical fellow named Marco Salinger.  I probably could have done plenty more with this scene, but I felt it was amusing as-is.
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Get a load of this guy.  He says his name is Captain Jiggles, and that in itself should be enough of a hint to tell you of what kind of joker he is.  He comes out wearing a pair of gaudy red and yellow balloon pants, a fluffy white shirt with pink and purple polka dots, and he’s got red gloves on his hands.  His whole face is smeared in pure white make-up, he’s got a gigantic red ball on his nose, and his hair is a mess of red curls.  The real kicker about all this is that I’m not here to be amused – this f%cker is supposed to be my loan officer.

I look at the bank teller as if she just puked up a whole lobster out of her mouth.  She just stares back at me blankly, wondering what my problem is.  I look around and wonder what everyone’s problem is.  Surely, I can’t be the only sucker in this joint that finds this strange and stupid.  I can’t tell if the other people in the bank are oblivious to the presence of this wacky clown, or if they’re just pretending not to notice.

Captain Jiggles meets my gaze and says, “Is there a problem, Mr. Salinger?”

I act as cool as I can, given the circumstances, and reply, “No problem at all.  Let’s get this over with.”

F#ck it.  Getting the loan is the most important thing right now – who the hell cares if it’s Ronald McDonald filling out the paperwork? I’m just glad it’s Captain Jiggles and not a juggalo – I always heard those guys are freaks.

I follow Mister Jiggles to his office (I seriously don’t know if I have to address him as “Captain” all the time or if Jiggles is his literal surname).  I half expect the door to open up to a zany funhouse full of bent mirrors and colored doors and other crap.  I’m floored when I see nothing but a clean office with a single desk, computer, and the cushiest chairs imaginable.

Jiggles offers me a seat, before sitting behind the desk and starting to type away at the computer.  He asks, “Would you like anything to drink?”

Whisky would have made my day, if it’d help me get over how goofy Mr. Jiggles looks.  I figure that booze is scarce in the bank, and asking for it might get me kicked out.  I just say “sure” and let him get me something.  From a fridge behind the desk, he pulls out a bottle of red soda – Faygo.  Ah sh*t, maybe he is a juggalo after all.

He pours some of the pop into a plastic cup that he pulls out from a drawer.  I half expect him to stick a silly straw in it too.  When he plants a plain, straight, transparent straw into it, I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed.

For the next hour or so, he takes down all my personal information and gets the ball rolling.  It takes just moments to check my credit score – not too good ever since last year – and then he goes into a big spiel about locking in percentages.  The whole time he talks, it sounds as professional and smart as talking to any other banking professional.  I like the fact that this clown isn’t bullsh&tting me, he gives me the numbers and prospects straight-up.  At the same time, I can’t help but to gawk at the man’s gigantic red snoz.  Seriously, what the hell is this? Why is this guy dressed this way? Why is the bank allowing this kind of dress code? How can they expect me to take this sh$t seriously?

When business gets wrapped up, I can’t complain – I get a legitimate loan at a damn good rate.  But I also expect something to come out of the blue at me.  Maybe Mr. Jiggles will shake my hand and I wind up getting zapped by one of those stupid buzzer toys.  Or maybe he’ll squirt my face with water from those stupid little flowers.  I spend the most mental energy entertaining the thought that a cake will roll in and a dame dressed like Harley Quinn will pop out of it.

Nothing happens though – Jiggles leads me to the door with a friendly smile, as if everything’s cool.  Once again, I don’t know if I’m disappointed or not.  As I exit the door with documents in hand, I turn and ask him, “May I ask you something?”

“Certainly, what is it?” he beams.

“I’m sorry, but I have to ask:  what is it with this get-up?”

“What do you mean?” He frowns as if I just spat on his Armani suit.

“Well, sir, it’s not every day I see a guy dressed in something as…colorful as this.”

“I know, isn’t it great?”

“I have to ask though…do you come to work like this all the time, or do you have a second job entertaining kids or something?”

“No, this is my normal suit.” Jiggles pulls on the shirt proudly and beams.

What a joker.  I decide just to drop it – stranger sh&t has happened for me to worry about what one clown is doing working at a bank.  At least this’ll give me something interesting to tell the nurses when I’m getting my lung cancer treatment.  Hell, I start to wonder what’ll happen when the procedure’s underway, and I start to think that having all the doctors and nurses dressed as clowns might make it bearable.  Something about it takes the edge off – I realize I spent so much time among stiff, boring people that seeing a clown in the mix feels crazier than it actually is.  What if everything was backwards – if everybody else was a clown and I was some schmuck in a plain black suit acting all serious?

The change in perspective turns out to be what I need.  God knows if I’ll actually survive the treatments, but thinking about the clowns of the world keeps my mind off of how dire it all is.  Next time I see the doctor and he tells me all the potential risks of surgery, I feel like I can look him in the eye and say, “Why so serious, doc?”