You amble over the cream cake, trying not to feel the gushy eggs sliding around your underpants. You pick up the cake, shaking the rack slightly, when you hear the waitress gasp. You turn toward her, then follow her gaze up to the top of the rack, where *two cream pies* have just become dislodged from their perch. They fall straight down onto either side of your waiting face, sandwiching it and encasing you in darkness.* As if you weren't humiliated enough, at this time, your suspenders slip off your shoulders, letting your baggy pants fall to your ankles.*
You hear a mocking snort from the waitress beside you. The clown footsteps can be heard as he approaches.
"Careful with the cake, now. I'll just take that out of your hands. My, that is a fine *cream cake.* I'll just place it over here for safe keeping."
Still blinded by pie, you try to feel your way out of the kitchen, taking small steps to avoid tripping on your pants.
"Easy, partner. You're gonna get hurt stumblin' around like that, sit down a clear your eyes first."
You do as the clown says, feeling the back of a chair you turn around and sit down on it. Cream gushes over your legs and into your undershorts.*
"Not there!" cries the clown.
You've sat right on top of the cream cake. As you clear your eyes, you almost wish you'd left them covered as you can now see the mess you're sitting in, the dismayed look on the clown's face, and the waitress as she points at you and snickers.
"Don't worry, I can save it!" the clown states in a clear state of delusion.
He dumps you out of the chair, picks up the ruined cake, and rushes out of the kitchen. By the time you've gotten to your feet, hauled up your pants and made it to the front door, he's in his little car, started and pulling away. He honks his horn and waves at you, and then he's gone, leaving you a mess in borrowed clown gear, standing alone outside of a bakery. You here a whistle behind you and turn in time to see the waitress with another *cream pie.* With your hands holding up your pants, you can do nothing to stop her from pushing the pie right into your face and twisting it in good.* You hear her mocking laughter as she shuts the door and locks you out.
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