Paparazzi!

The moment I set one foot off the stage I was assailed by bright flashing lights. I held my hands up to stop these lights from blinding me. I was too late to realize what they really were. I should have known that when you are in the vicinity of a famous band, the paparazzi were sure to follow.

"Hey naked guy, how did you managed to get Sexplosion to play on the beach?"

"Excuse me, naked man, how long have you known the band?"

"Why were you naked on stage in the first place?"

"Is your nudity some sort of promotional theme for Sexplosion?"

"Are you not wearing clothes to protest sweatshops?"

Between their barrage of questions and clicking of their cameras, my eyes managed to adjust to the flashes for me to see that well over a dozen reporters have come to interview Sexplosion. Instead they caught me, with all their cameras, microphones, and recorders pointed in my direction. The gravity of this situation hit me like a ton of bricks. With my face turning beet-red I finally had the wisdom to shield my dangling bits from their their camera assault. With my heart hammering at 100 miles per hour I glanced left and right for a way out but it was no good. There were too many of them.