How did Rhonda get here?, Rhonda wondered as she lifted herself from the corner of the cold, dark room.
She glanced over her desolate surroundings, taking notice of the presence of three oddly placed clown pictures on the far side of the room. Dusting off her chiffon dress, she advanced to take a closer look.
One painting depicted a jolly clown, and the next a sad. On the third was a clown with deep black, piercing eyes.
Rhonda shuddered. Rhonda's got to get out of here.
She ran her hand across the rough concrete walls in search of a door. To her disappointment, she could not find one. Rhonda was locked in an empty, barren room with no windows and no door. She had no way out.
Sullen, she sat back down in the dusty corner. Tears filled her soft blue eyes as she reminisced about her life. What has Rhonda done?, she asked herself upon realizing the extent of her disconnection from her true self. Now, as a result of her behavior, she was alone and frightened in an unfamiliar dungeon.
Suddenly, the room began to shake. Rhonda watched in horror as the concrete wall to her right began to move. Oddly, it slid away to the side, revealing a large glass windowpane. Frantically, Rhonda dashed to the window. Rhonda's got to break it and get out of here!, she thought.
She forcefully kicked the window. Unfortunately, it did not budge. She quickly ran to the other side of the room and removed the sunken eyed clown painting from the wall. Using the painting's heavy brass frame, Rhonda tried to smash the window open. Alas, it again proved to be unbreakable.
In a moment of anger, she threw the picture across the room, causing it to tear. She pressed herself against the window in hopes of seeing someone outside, but she soon realized that the area was deserted. She turned around to sit in the corner once again; however, to her surprise, she noticed someone moving in the far corner of the room.
"Who...who's there?" Rhonda stuttered, slowly moving toward the corner.
The person did not answer. Instead, he gave her a piercing stare.
Rhonda knew those eyes. They were the eyes from the painting.
She studied him closer. His face was coated in thick white face paint, and a shade of red paint graced his eyes and mouth. The clown walked a few feet to the left and gazed at the paintings that were hanging on the wall.
Rhonda quickly gathered the remains of the torn clown picture. Shockingly, as she pieced it back together, she discovered that the clown had disappeared from the painting, leaving only an endless black background.
The clown had crawled out of the picture.
She carefully turned around. Through the window, she saw a large crowd of people, pointing and laughing at her miserable existence. She crumbled and collapsed to her knees, sobbing.
Suddenly, Rhonda felt the clown tap her on the shoulder. In a panic, she got up and sprinted desperately around the room. However, trapped inside the tiny room, she could not escape.
Purple beams of light flew from the clown's hollow eyes, zapping Rhonda as she ran and freezing her in place. The clown, in his zombie-like state, lifted Rhonda from the ground and shoved her into the tattered, empty painting. Rhonda at once became a two-dimensional image, a mere caricature of herself. The clown hung the painting back in its rightful place on the wall.
The audience cheered.