The Party

[Warning Rating:]

Mild Adult.

[Text that came with eMail:]

I need to confess about what happened at this party I went to the other night. I was getting pretty drunk and this guy came up to me. I think his exact words were ‘You, me, sex, now’, and, well, I guess I’m a sucker for that kind of sweet-talk, because the next thing I knew we were in one of the bedrooms rutting like some animal proverbial for rutting all the time. The worst part of it is, my boyfriend burst in at one point and saw me. He didn’t say anything, just left straight away. I know I should have said something or gone after him, but that would have been kind of impolite to the other guy.

I was wracked with guilt for the rest of the evening. If it weren’t for this guy doing a hilarious glove puppet routine I would have gotten totally depressed.


I’ve been hung up for years on this Oriental girlfriend I used to have, but my friends persuaded me to go to some party to take my mind off it. Eventually I decided to tag along, and what do you know, my ex-girlfriend was there! Or at least, I thought so. By the time I had gone up to her and said “Yumi Sechow?!”, I realised it was someone else. But the next thing I knew she was all over me, and, well, I guess I was just too polite to swat her off and we ended up fucking in the room with the coats. Some guy came in at one point and looked completely shocked. I guessed we were fucking on top of his coat, or something. I would probably have left the party then and there if it hadn’t been for that really funny guy with the glove puppet.


I work as a deliveryman for the zoo, and one night I was delivering a consignment of big tigers. I was certain they put three in the crate at the warehouse, but when I got to the zoo, there were only two. I told the zoo people that they had only put two in the crate when I knew this to be a big fat lie. Now there’s a tiger running around somewhere and it’s all my fault. I wish someone would come cheer me up with a glove puppet routine or something.


I’ve been so wracked with guilt ever since that party a few nights back. I didn’t really want to go but my girlfriend insisted, then she just sort of abandoned me to converse with some tedious guy who may, in retrospect, have been an aquarium. Anyway, I go upstairs looking for her and hear funny noises coming from the room with the coats, I look in, and there she is completely naked on all fours in front of someone I didn’t know. And to make matters worse, I’m almost certain they were fucking on top of my coat.

I left immediately, and I suppose I must have gotten angry, because the next thing I remember is releasing a tiger into my girlfriend’s car. I’m not even sure where I got the tiger or that it was even the right car, but as soon as I had gotten back into the party and simmered down a little bit I began to realise that I must have been mistaken. My girlfriend would never be unfaithful, I was certain. They had probably just been doing naked tai chi or something, then one of them had fainted, and the other was trying to revive them with their body heat. The more I thought of it, the more sense it made. I felt terrible for having thought ill of my girlfriend like that. Luckily, some kind of hired glove puppet entertainer was doing a routine in the living room and took my mind off things.


I’m going to write this down here because no-one I’ve told this to believes me, but I swear it’s absolutely true. I was walking home one night from a get-together at my local and noticed that there was a party going on in one of the houses I always pass on the way. I was debating whether or not to crash it when I saw some drunk girl stumble out the front door, looking kind of angry. She was heading for what I presume was her car, and I could clearly see something moving around inside it. And I swear this is true: it was a tiger. I was debating whether or not to warn the chick when she opened the door and was almost immediately eaten. Like, in two bites. It was a big tiger. I was debating whether or not to tell someone but I could see through the living room window that they were all distracted by a guy with a glove puppet.


A friend of mine was hosting a party the other night. I forget why. I told him I didn’t know who had put sulphuric acid in the punch, when it had been me all along. I could see people screaming with their jaws melting off and all I could do was pretend to be concerned. Then, when everyone was watching the glove puppet guy, I put drawing pins all over the toilet seat. I don’t know why I do these things.

Oh wait, yes I do: I’m a lunatic.


I was hosting a party the other night. I forget why. I invited this friend of mine. I forget why, because he’s very strange. He usually greets me by punching me really hard in the face, and once I introduced him to my sister and he responded by cutting off her legs with razor wire. I’m pretty sure he had something to do with the acid in the punch, because he came up to me unbidden and shouted “I don’t know who put sulphuric acid in the punch!!” really loudly, and this is the sort of psychological mind game he’s played on me before. I also suspect he has something to do with the disappearance of my cat.

Later on, there was this glove puppet routine thing and everyone came up to me afterwards congratulating me on hiring such a funny performer. The truth is I had done no such thing and had no idea who the guy was, but I accepted the praise anyway. I feel kind of bad about it. I would have stopped the puppeteer and given him some money but he left rather abruptly, and I was more worried about the huge tiger that seemed to be talking to me.


That party a few nights back was the worst party of my entire life. It started badly when I came in and absolutely nobody recognised me as the girl who played Third Girl in episode 8, season 4 of Inspector Morse. I went upstairs in a sulk to steal from the host’s CD collection and was thwarted by someone fucking in the bedroom. I hung around there for a while, but after they had left there was this horrible layer of sweat all over the coats and I didn’t want to go in in case I caught HIV or something. Then, when I tried to use the toilet, some lunatic had sprinkled drawing pins all over it. Well, that was the last straw, I can tell you, so I stormed downstairs to give everyone a piece of my mind only to find that they were all watching some stupid puppet show and not paying me any attention. So I stormed out, and then, wouldn’t you just know it? There was a tiger hiding in my car. And it ate me.

Now I have to spend the rest of my life in this fucking tiger’s stomach and it’s really pissing me off. Anyway, the reason I’m confessing is because I told the host – through the tiger, obviously – that I’d had a really good time when I hadn’t.


Well, where to begin? I was at this party, you see, and I hadn’t intended to stay for long but I accidentally ran over and killed a scout troop on the way so I needed a drink to steady my nerves. I was staring out of the main window in the lounge and I saw some weirdo trying to push an angry tiger into someone’s car, so I decided to run to the kitchen to tell someone. I must have tripped on something, ‘cos I entered the kitchen airborne and landed against the kitchen table with my hand in the punchbowl. Then my hand started to dissolve for some reason and it hurt like buggery, so I looked around for something to wipe off the acid, and the only thing I could find was this big furry cushion. Only it wasn’t a big furry cushion, was it? It was the host’s cat. And since I was rather frantic, instead of just wiping my hand, I accidentally stuck my hand up it’s bum.

So there I am running around with a screaming, flailing cat for a hand, I run into the living room to get some help, and everyone just thought it was funny. And no matter how many times I tried to tell them what had happened, they just kept laughing. So I ran away. I eventually dislodged the cat by smacking it against the wall a few times. I now have a phobia of scout troops.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s