MIKE CARRINGTON....New Story....Emlyn Gropensteigler on....THE PARTY!

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Emlyn Gropensteigler (EG), master thargler and real fun guy. Hates parties. In a moment of weakness, he decides to go to one. Dressed as usual in his best clothes.(see above)....He doesn't smoke, drink or socialise.... Why would he go?.........

Submitted: March 17, 2012

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Submitted: March 17, 2012

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MIKE CARRINGTON....New Story!.....Emlyn Gropensteigler on........THE PARTY!

EG has been fairly quiet recently, but yesterday a manuscript arrived at my secret address in a plain brown envelope. I thought it might be my usual issue of Flower Arranging Monthly. They've been getting rather dubious recently. The last issue arrived with a flyer for another unusual mag called "Bigg Uns" which featured a large young lady dressed in almost nothing. She was holding a large bunch of flowers, so I naturally assumed that this was a magazine for people who grew extra sized flowers! Anyway, I digress. The manuscript I reproduce here is all about EG's take on one of his pet hates.........Parties!..... Read on!.......

 

Hello guys, EG here. I know many people who go to parties and have a good time. At least, that's what they always say afterwards. They always say " Had a great time last night at the party night. Got absolutely paralytic (drunk)!!" Still haven't figured out why one actually needs to be drunk to have a good time. No-one has ever attempted to explain this ridiculous tradition. However, I decided to accept an invitation to one of these social gatherings recently, despite having spent much of my life avoiding them like the plague. After all, I had to see if there was something that I had missed. Some secret joy. Bear in mind that I don't smoke or drink. So, last Saturday night, I had a bath (yes, I know, very extreme for me!), put on the type of clothing (clean shoes, white shirt, tie and pressed pants) that I used to wear for occasions like this, and went to this party fully prepared with notebook and pen. I had to document my findings. By the way, I have replaced any possible profanities with polite alternatives! .....Here we go......

I arrived at the party house on time, 8.00pm. A person answered my knock at the door. An immaculate, suave, sophisticated, tuxedo-clad figure was what what I expected to see. After all, this was an upmarket address, and the host was a stockbroker. Instead, I was met by a reeling, unshaven individual dressed in torn jeans, shirt hanging out, drink in one hand, and a young lady in the other. "Hi, c'mon in, man," he slurred, "make yerself at home!" This wasn't the host, just one of the guests. I made a few notes, then went into the main party room. The rest of the guests were similarly attired in jeans, shirt-tails flapping, flipflops and uncombed hair. They looked liked ragged idiots, not stockbrokers, bankers and lawyers. I was the odd man out, but this has never worried me before. Indeed I rather enjoy it. Despite the fact that the party start time was 8.00pm, most of them seemed to be partially drunk already. I helped myself to a large glass of lemonade as no-one offered me one, and began to 'circulate'. I believe that's the expression.

One of the reasons for party attendance is the free flowing conversation, full of intelligent observations, smooth repartee and the occasional touch of humour. I was having trouble finding any of these conversational traits in my fellow guests. I will call them Jake, Zack and Pauline as those are their names. Here is a sample of the type of conversation that they were indulging in....."Well, mate, how's it going," said Jake to Zack as he clung onto a skimpily dressed girl for support.  "Oh, not too bad, mate," Zack replied, laughing drunkenly, " I just lost my job, the wifes leaving me, I crashed my car last week, got mugged the other night, my house may be repossessed, and my new Ipad ain't working! Apart from that, things are looking up!" The girl that Jake was clinging onto in a rather intimate way roared with hideous laughter. It sounded like a chainsaw. "Yeah, well, Zack, as long as yer 'avin' a good time, we're wiv yer. If yer broke, then I'll be off pretty quick! Heheheheh...." Her voice matched her laughter. Pauline then joined this jolly group. "Hi, guys, how's it going." At least she sounded civilised. I was, of course, wrong. She continued. "Hey, Jake, who are you having it off with now!?" ('having it off' is an expression of a sexual nature). This query was spoken at a very high volume. Nobody seemed to notice. Jake looked downcast. "No-one fancies me any more, my love, bad times for old Jakey now." Pauline proceeded to seize him in a firm embrace. "Me too," she simpered, "let's try and comfort each other as best we can." Jake unhooked himself from his companion, who then slumped quietly to the floor.  Zack moved in quickly to assist her. "I don't think I'll be at me best now," Jake muttered forlornly, "but I'll do what I can." He and Pauline then proceeded to stagger up the winding staircase in the direction of upstairs. Obviously they were going to the cloakroom, or to check out the decor. What other reason could there be? Surely they couldn't be going up there to satisfy carnal desires? During all of this, no-one spoke to me. I appeared to be the invisible man. Why was I here? What was I doing? Is this a waste of time? I asked myself these questions as no-one else was talking to me.

I moved on around the room. Where was the host? Finally I found him. Here he was in person, the man who invited me to this gathering. He was surrounded by his friends and hangers-on. Dressed as most of his guests were in old jeans torn at the knees (the distressed look! they were all millionaires!), shirt with 3 buttons missing, dirty sandals and uncombed hair. And two days growth of beard. He looked  suspiciously at me. "Who the hell are you!?" he snarled in what can only be described as an unpleasant fashion. I was unfazed. "I am Emlyn Gropensteigler, master thargler, and an old and distant acquaintance of yours from days gone by," I replied politely.  "Oh really? Oh well, in that case, why don't you circulate a little, have a drink, maybe find a  lady friend if you get lucky. As long as they can ignore the way you're dressed!" Sychophantic laughter all round. At my expense. Time to play hardball.  Enough was enough. "When I was invited by your goodself to this motley gathering," I said quietly," I was delighted to think that I would have the chance to meet with some reasonably intelligent folks with whom I could share some memories. Instead I seem to have walked into a drunken madhouse full of ill-dressed boozers who only have sex or the next bottle of alcohol on their mind.  If, indeed, any of them actually have minds! From what I've seen up to now, that seems highly unlikely. You are a bunch of morons! I personally feel that you would have done the world a huge favour had you  all been put down at birth!" There was a stunned silence. I prepared to defend myself. However, my reputation had gone before me. Some of them knew of me, and despite the fact that together they could have thrown me out, they declined to do so. Not really too surprising as most bullies will back off when their bluff is called. This was just a collection of clowns! The host (who also seemed to be drunk) glared at me and then walked/staggered away. I proceeded to circulate. I was, after all, still an invited guest!

Well, to cut a long story short, or a short story shorter, I decided to have another glass of lemonade. All this lemonade was having an effect on my system. As you know, I'm not used to strong drink.  I wandered around, picking my way over the inebriated revellers who were seemingly starting to behave like animals. I was unable to find the bathroom downstairs. Just then, a young lady took my arm. After all that lemonade, she looked almost attractive. "You look lost, darling," she cooed softly, "can I help you? I'm Delilah." "Yes, I urgently need to avail myself of the lavatorial facilities!" I whispered... Delilah looked blankly at me. I realised I was speaking a foreign language. I translated. "The bog!" I almost shouted. "Ah, I can show you the way," she whispered in my ear, "it's upstairs." As she took my hand and we slowly mounted the stairs together, I realised that maybe tonight might not be a total loss after all. We could always check out the decor.....The bathroom was so hard to find!

 

THE END. (maybe.....)

 

Aftermath.........EG was invited to another party few months later. This time he declined the invitation.  He and Delilah were having their own party. And no-one else was invited!

 


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