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Sikander watched his client walk into the bank and was immediately skeptical. Of course, anyone would be. The client was wearing white and red makeup and wore a squeezable rubber ball on his nose. His floppy sneakers were as long as the legs in his polka-dot pants. There was an obviously plastic flower on his pastel shirt, and his gloves would have looked at home on the hands of Mickey Mouse.
All the other clients and staff in the branch couldn’t help but stare at the jester in their court. As Sikander approached, their gazes all slowly turned to him.
“Are you Doctor Christopher Anderson?” asked Sikander, emphasizing the client’s increasingly unlikely academic credentials.
“You can call me Christopho the Clown!” said the client, grinning with delight.
“Alright,” said Sikander, “How about you join me in my office?”
A few minutes later Sikander was sitting at his desk, trying to focus on his mundane bank-issued computer, which was incredibly enough still running Windows 7.
But Sikander couldn’t help himself, and kept stealing glances at the face of his client, which was as artifically red and white as the bank’s own corporate logo.
“I’m going to need some identification,” said Sikander. Much to Sikander’s surprise, the driver’s license photo was as flamboyant as its subject in the flesh.
How could this possibly be legal? thought Sikander. Could the provincial government really approve of this? But all the details on the card matched the details in the system.
“So, Christopho”, Sikander began, emphasizing his client’s stage name, “you’re here to open a life insurance policy, is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right!” exclaimed Christopho. “You never know when I might slip on a banana peel?!”
Sikander stared at his client for a second before continuing.