The Party Foul
The following story is true.
Most names are changed to protect the innocent and the guilty.
SORRY! FIRST DRAFT WAS SENT OUT IN MASS EMAIL. Fun.
Edited version here :)
The last party my friend Craig threw was a costume party, which ended in an orgy in his Culver City backyard. I saw Map of the Ukraine pulling up Spongebob’s Sponge, the eastern borders of Ukraine… sliding up yellow-sea-thigh.
I decided to go to Craig’s latest party at the last minute. I’ve been feeling intuitively homebody-ish, as loose ends in my life are being tied up on their own. But I needed some connection, and the party was being thrown close to me, at a Chateau Marmont bungalow, this time instead of Culver City.
Arriving to a bungalow full of hot men, I had to pee terribly, as I do all day.
I’m washing my hands when a group of people come into the bathroom.
”Oop! Sorry!” the shortest one says to me, but immediately turns his back to me.
I climb into the bathtub and watch as more people than four people enter, and the door is closed.