Naked Clowns

“S-so, I just read the script,” the clown’s smile turned into a frown, and she tapped her giant shoes into the ground. Typical, new actresses always have a complaint or two just before the show starts. “So, let me get this straight, I play a woman that wears a towel, and only a towel, correct?”

“Yes, that’s how you start your act,” the clown replied, looking at the towel-clad actress in front of her. She was a pretty young woman with dark hair, red lips, and a lithe body. Quite the eye candy, and perfect for the role.

“And then I get into a tug of war for the towel with another naked woman, there is a mud fight, we lose the towel, we get into a cart chase of sorts and end up in a cage that is then raised atop the stage?”

“Yes, that’s the script in a very summarized nutshell. It’s one of our most popular acts, and is based on a true story, you know?”

“But, isn’t that a bit indecent and …demeaning? The whole naked thing? The mud fight? The cage?!”

“Au contraire, it’s avant garde. We are like the Cirque du Soleil of burlesque acts, don’t you know? What I am saying, of course you know. You signed the contract.”

“Well, about that. I only signed the contract because I lost a bet… So, can we let bygones be bygones? I think that I’m going to pass on this one.”

“Sorry girl, but a contract is a contract, and we are about to start the show. You’ll have to perform wherever you like it or not.”

“Ah, about that… what if I instead… run away?”

“Wait!” The clown watched the girl spin around and flee from the changing room. She stretched her arm to grab her, but only managed to nab the woman’s towel.

“Get back here! We have a legally binding contract! Come on, is streaking outside really less embarrassing than the show?”

“Eeeep! M-maybe! H-hey, no photos! Out of my way!”

The clown gave chase, armed with a handful of pies. Her sisters followed; one armed with a lasso, the other with a water gun, and the last one with balloon handcuffs. Their oversized shoes honked as they gave chase out in the street.

“Ah, so that’s how Amanda's nightmare happened,” Kim mused from backstage, sticking her head next to the door frame to watch Amanda’s ass bounce up and down into the street.

“I’m sorry, miss Kim,” a sharply dressed woman apologized to her. “This never happened to us before, but I assure you that we will bring our missing actress back even if we have to drag her kicking and screaming to the stage. I hope we can continue to have your patronage in the future.”

Patronage? “Err, yeah sure.” Kim looked down at herself. Platinum watch, diamond ring. Wow, this Kim was loaded. Her luxurious Vertu phone vibrated. “Mister M got me busy with a last-minute job. …I’ll be ten minutes late,” a text message from a girl called HaraK♥. Wow, she had a ghastly profile picture, the woman looked like a ghost.

“No prob. Show’s delayed anyway.” Kim replied before going to sit down. She really should move on, but the show seemed interesting. Why not stay and watch?

Kim failed to realize that her chair had a wasp sitting on it. She immediately felt a sharp pain sting her bottom, much stronger than a meager pinch. Kim was ejected out of the dream and into the next.