As you step through the door, the music and colored lights hit you with disorienting force. multicolored streamers, foam animals, and a disco ball hang from the ceiling. Lining the wall adjacent to you are a set of mirrors, but the first three are warped in a way that stretches or skews your reflection beyond recognition. At first, you believe the fourth mirror must be similarly difficient, until you recognize that your proportions are correct, and get a good look at the makeup and crazy hair styling the pranksterish beautician has inflicted upon you. While you are busy examining your face in the mirror, you feel the slight rustle of your skirts being lifted from behind, followed by a sharp pinch to your backside and the honk of a bicycle horn.
You turn in bewilderment, pushing down your skirts behind you. There in front of you, with a guilty look on his face, is the clown you met in the park.
"Oops! Mistook you for someone else. You haven't by chance seen-"
The clown is cut off in mid sentence by the screaming entrance of the girl who took both your clothes and your gender.
"What's going on here!?! Are you making time with my man?"
You have no ready response to this question. The girl, dressed as a clown herself now, stalks toward you carrying *two tall glasses of chilled drink.*
"I take the time to do your makeup, lend you my prettiest dress, and you repay me by hitting on my boyfriend? Well, why don't you help yourself to my drink as well!"
She punctuates the last sentence by throwing one of her drinks into your face.* As you gasp at the freezing wetness, you feel your skirts tug up behind you again. You turn in time to fix the clown with a cold glare before he can pinch you again. The clown raises his hands in surrender, as you feel the second drink pouring down from the back of your neck.*
"Stop flirting with him!"
You stumble away, arching your spine in attempt to escape the icy downpour, and bump into a table of food for the party. Laid out on the table are a *bowl of dip,* a *cream pie,* and a big *cream cake.* A hand grabs your hair from behind and pushes your face down into the cake until it has engulfed your ears.* When the hand releases you, your head escapes the mess with a sucking sensation as cream drips and falls from your face in heavy glops. As you clear your face and catch your first breath, you feel your skirts lifting once again, and a heavy cream pie gets rubbed into your underwear.*
"That ought to stop you teasing my boyfriend."
You turn around to face the girl clown who humiliated you again and again my the moment you met her. Quivering with rage, humiliation, damp cold, and cream and balloons that quiver all on their own, you stare at her, speechless. She laughs at you with mocking triumph, as her boyfriend ambles over.
"Oh, don't get mad at your friend here," says the clown from the park, "I thought it was you I was pinching. It was an honest mistake. You know I've only got eyes for my little sugarbuns."
"Really?" squeals the girl clown as she turns to rub noses with her beau.
Forgotten, sodden, and tired, you turn away from the osculating gagsters to go search for your missing clothes. Unfortunately, the first thing you find is a banana peel, which you slip on, sending you head over heels over the table. Midway through the journey, your head find the dip bowl, and as you come to a seated rest on the other side of the table, the upturned bowl remains perched on your head, dripping down your water balloon cleavage.*
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