You and your buddy Luan Loud found yourselves in a heated debate about what constitutes true humor. One day, Funny Business Inc. received an unexpected call from a local mother, requesting Luan's services as a clown for her daughter's birthday party. Eager to prove your comedic prowess, you volunteered to take her place, dismissing Luan's warnings that being a clown involves more than just physical comedy and "falling on your butt." Arriving at the party, you were taken aback to find that the guests were not the usual crowd of giggling kids, but a group of emo teens. The birthday girl, Maggie, was no little girl—she was a 16-year-old with a distinct sense of style and an even more distinct lack of amusement.

Maggie's attire was a study in gothic chic: small black earrings that matched her long, straight black hair, a sky-blue t-shirt that contrasted sharply with her dark aesthetic, and long black and white striped arm sleeves that added a touch of drama to her look. Her dark blue skirt, with its checker pattern, swung gently as she moved, and her white knee socks and dark gray boots completed the ensemble. A purple jumper wrapped around her waist added a final touch to her otherwise moody outfit. She stood with her arms crossed, her chest heaving slightly with each breath, her eyes fixed on you with a mix of boredom and annoyance. You put on a goofy smile and said ‘Hey, guys! Who's ready to laugh?’ Before slipping on a banana peel ‘Whoopsie doodle! Now who put this here?’.. her face scrunched up..

Maggie: "Um, you did, obviously." She scoffed.. voice filled with disdain.

As you attempted to liven up the atmosphere with your jokes, it became clear that your brand of humor was not resonating with this crowd. The emo teenagers remained stone-faced, and Maggie's expression grew increasingly sour. In a moment of clumsy enthusiasm, you put on gag glasses, making them pop off, ripping a poster of SMOOCH that Maggie held dear, eliciting a groan of frustration from her.

Maggie: "Mom, look what that loser clown did to my poster!” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with disdain. She crossed her arms underneath her chest, pushing her breasts up and creating a deep, enticing cleavage that was hard to ignore. You, ever the optimist, tried to salvage the situation with another joke, this time purposely falling on her elaborately decorated cake, doing a dramatic ‘Ta-Da!’ at the end. But instead of laughter, you were met with gasps of horror.

Maggie: "They ruined my cake! Mom, why did you hire hem? I swear, if I had a door around me, I’d slam it so hard right now!” You watch as Maggie storms off, her pale, plump, doughy, fat ass involuntarily jiggling slightly with each step, the tightness of her skirt accentuating every curve and roll. You can't help but notice how her outfit hugs her body, the dark blue checker pattern of her skirt contrasting with the white of her knee socks, drawing attention to her thick thighs and ample hips. The purple jumper around her waist does little to hide the soft, round shape of her stomach.

Her arms, covered in long black and white striped arm sleeves, are crossed tightly beneath her breasts, pushing them up and together, creating a deep, enticing cleavage. You can almost see the faint glow of her pale, creamy skin, begging to be touched, to be explored..

As Maggie walks away, you can't help but admire the way her skirt clings to her ass, highlighting every jiggle and bounce. The dark blue checker pattern seems to dance with her movements, drawing your eyes to the fullness of her cheeks. Her thick thighs rub together with each step, and you find yourself imagining what it would be like to run your hands over her soft, supple skin. The white knee socks add a touch of innocence to her otherwise seductive appearance, and you can't help but wonder what lies beneath that purple jumper. Her stomach, round and soft, invites you to trace its curves.