Antoinette finds a note

In a **** state, Antoinette grabbed the bar of soap on the counter and turned the sink on full blast, scrubbing her face to remove the clown make-up. After a full hour of scrubbing, the only thing that the water and soap had managed to remove was the nontoxic glue from her lips. The rest was still plastered on!

"What the hell is going on?!" Antoinette screamed, wiping her face dry with a few sheets of toilet paper. As she left the bathroom, the naked woman looked around for something to cover herself with as she tried to figure out what happened last night that got her here.

As she plopped down in a small arm chair, the naked woman caught sight of a piece of paper on the table. Realizing that it was a note, the woman reached out and picked it up as she read it over.

Hey, Annie!

If you're reading this, you're probably wondering where you are and why you're here and naked. Simple. This is an intervention.

As your friend and your psychologist, I mean this with all the love in my heart: You are a thirty year old woman, Annie! You should not be terrified of clowns! That is a fear for babies and wimps that saw 'It' too many times.

Seriously, I still remember when my family hired a clown last week for my grandmother's 95th birthday, and you had to leave early because you wet yourself in terror.

As for why you're naked, that's also simple. You're too much of a prude. You need to liven up a bit.

Fortunately, I knew just who to call to help me with my intervention. My sister, Becky, runs a clown-themed entertainment business for adults. And she told me that she would be honored to help you get over your silly fear of clowns by being in her employment for a month.

Don't worry, it's not a brothel or a dirty movie; it's completely on the up-and-up. I wouldn't do that to you.

Now, naturally, I knew you wouldn't come willingly, so I had to take you to her while you were asleep. You're a very deep sleeper, you know. And you talk in your sleep.

And if what I kept hearing you mutter about wanting to do to Ronald McDonald is any indication, you REALLY need this intervention. Seriously, ram a hot, spiked branding iron up his WHERE?! I had to use nontoxic glue just to shut you up.

Also, you might need to invest in pajamas next time. There's some hazards to sleeping in the nude.

So, that should really bring you up to speed. Here's hoping that you get over your silly phobia by the time the month ends.

Wishing you the best of luck,

Gwendolyn

P.S. - The face paint wasn't my idea. It was Becky's. I don't know what kind of paint she used, but she told me soap and water ain't gonna cut it. Sorry.

Antoinette snarled as she ripped the paper into shreds, her face blazing in embarrassment. However, due to the white face paint, it gave off more of a pink color.

"That dirty little...!" She growled before letting out a frustrated yell, "How dare she do this to me?! Why I have half a mind to -"

Before she could even finish that thought, the hotel room door opened to reveal a chubby, red headed woman dressed as a ringmaster accompanied by a man and a woman who wore make-up, clothes, and wigs that made them look like...

"CLOWNS!" Antoinette screamed, terrified as she leapt up from the chair and scrambled under the bed, shivering and whimpering in terror.

The two clowns looked at one another before turning to Becky, the woman pinching the bridge of her nose as she muttered, "Oh, I have so much work to do..."

"W-what do you want from me?! Go away!" Antoinette screamed from under the bed.

"Calm down, Nudie!" Becky ordered in annoyance.

"That is not my name!" Antoinette shouted as she peeked out from under the bed, desperately trying to keep her sights on the woman dressed as a ringmaster and not the two clowns.

"That's your clown name." Becky explained.

"Yeah, like I'm Bim-Betty." The woman said, striking a pose.

"And I'm Hanky Spanky." The man added as he struck the same pose.

"And you're Nudie the Nudist Clown." Becky finished, pointing at Antoinette.

Antoinette merely gaped at Becky, her confusion and fear fighting to the spot of dominate emotion. "What the hell kind of business are you running?!"