A curiousity came into the town. Clad in the contrasting, comic colors of the vocation, the clownish creation approached the square unaware of current events and startling the socially-distanced crowd of adults.
"Come no closer, stranger," cautioned one of the younger women, Ameria by name, "for your own protection as well as our own." Truth be told, all the town's population held their own protection much more preciously than the safety of some buffoon blundering within their boundaries.
While Ameria spoke, the Harlequin maintained a forward pace, albeit more slowly, and truth be told, not out of self concern but to assure them that Ameria's warning had been heard.
"We are accursed, clown. Leave, whoever or whatever you are, you fool," threatened Ameria, and truth be told, those were the kindest, and loudest, words spoken toward, and to thwart the oncoming jester. Perhaps, it is time to describe the intruder a bit more and the locals,too, because the typical, ignorant mutterings marked too many male voices; while the female phonetic pronouncements voiced "What in the name of the gods?" and "Id'git" even "Is this one o'dem Rude Paul creatures?" Not with Ameria's brave volume, but hearable and hurtful, nonetheless.
The aforementioned Harlequin, neither hurt nor harmed, adorned in cap and tunic sporting squares of ebon and lily with stockings of black, actually could not be recognized by gender. This was due to the garb as well as size, demeanor, movement, and walk, or perhaps, gait of Humor's herald.' Conversely, the tremulous townfolk, trying to exude energy and brashness, actually had been for many years under an Evil Wizard's alleged, but long-standing curse: "You will not be able to embrace anyone, anytime, anywhere in the environs of your district, town, burgh, or you will be infected, invaded, infested with deadly boils, pimply pustules, fevers, fits, discharges of bile from all your bodily functioning holes, and the deadliest of deaths" which despite its ridiculous rash of redundancy ravaged the villagers; even the bold, brave, bazen, brash Ameria (oops, sorry for my own rash of redundancy). For them, any stranger, strange event, strange weather, or strange symptom was further evidence of the aforementioned, and, still evil Wizard and that foul fiend's fouler fulmination (okay, the last word, while alliterative, is not precise, but foolish stories have foolish storytellers).
Despite their warnings and deprecations, undaunted or foolish, our fool advanced foot by foot. "Oh, hurting humans, I am here to help, heal, humor, and hug," Thus, spake the Harlequin, how else but happily?
That was the tipping point for those tied to testosterone, but the basso voices tended to diminish due to 'extra-social' distance placed between them and the dim-witted, or sexually threatening court comic. For the he-men, half of the Harlequin's 'h' words heralded only homophobia or hatred, whichever is more horrendous or hilarious. Yet, the women, and those are are womanly, who are the world's warriors, remained in the square, whether due to nature, nuture, depravity, deprivation, sensitivity, sensuality, curiousity, or concupiscence.