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You just stand there and wait for the clowns to leave, so that you can walk away without getting tripped or shoved again. The audience's laughter has died down, and the clowns start performing small gags with each other while ignoring you. The ringmistress makes an announcement.
"For the second act, we’ll be needing a moment or two to prepare, so feel free to get yourself some cotton candy.”
You hear the sound of creaking chairs and moving feet, and think for a moment that you might even be able to duck out with the exiting members of the audience, before you remember that there is no real audience, and all the sounds that you are hearing are recorded. You notice that the clowns have receded to the edge of the ring and appear to be leaving themselves. This may be your chance to escape. You take a step forward, and nearly fall down before pulling back your weight. You had intended to take a reasonable stride, but your legs are so stiff from the now dry glue that coats them that you barely managed to move your foot a few inches. Then, all the clowns that had seemly disappeared start to slowly seep back into the show. At first, you are more concerned with getting your legs unstuck, but you change your focus when you realize they are all carrying quite a few large objects behind their backs while grinning eagerly and devilishly.
"Ladies and Gentleman, for being such a wonderful participant in our first act, in appreciation, for our second act, the clowns would like to make our special guest a glorious statue."
The surrounding clowns just continue to watch you expectantly, while out of the corner of your eye, you see another clown, dressed in a purple spotted costume, enter the ring riding a unicyle. Balanced atop of the riding clown's head, a very large, very familiar bucket teeters and sloshes. Dreading the imminent, but helpless to get out of the way, you watch as the unicyclist pulls up in front of you and stops abruptly, causing the bucket to fall forward and douse you entirely in fresh paste.
Immediately, the circled clowns move in and employ their hidden objects. Gloved hands grab your arms and force them into an outstretched pose, while what appears to be oversized hair dryers are aimed at your elbows and shoulders, drying the glue. A pair of oversized scissors, like the kind you would see at ribbon cutting ceremonies, flashes before your eyes. After a few quick snips, you feel your shirt get stripped of of your body, sticking for a moment where the old paste had dried. You feel the same happen to your pants, and you try to move once they are pulled off, but the clowns and the paste that had soaked through to your skin hold your legs fast. You are now nearly naked and completely immobile. Paste laden brushes coat your body once more to ensure your captivity.
What do you do?
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