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The Party That Never Was: Part II


            This particular story isn’t about the infamous Ides of March Dashwood party, but about Jason’s pathetic follow-up to the Wolverines party. Now the title might be a little mis-leading as the event had all of the structural semblances of a party: A place, beer in kegs, people drinking said beer, and people laughing and enjoying themselves. But to anyone who was there to gaze upon this ill-conceived fiasco, they all know; it wasn’t a party.

            Jason, when he eventually got out of the bathroom, must have come down and looked around at the various people at the Wolverine’s party: Enjoying themselves, laughing, having a sense of drunken communal friendship, and Jason wanted in! He wanted to be the grand master of such an event. I’m sure he pictured himself strutting around in a tuxedo, with people coming up to him, saying, “Wow, what a great time Jason. We were all wrong about you. You’re not a smelly piece of shit at all, but the greatest guy in the world. We’re going to find that 8 year old who mugged you, and beat him up!”

And I know he thought, “If these losers can do it, so can I.” Because that’s the one thing that no one has touched on about Jason that caused him to really be an outcast. Not just the filth and odious personal habits, it was his overwhelming arrogance and sense of entitlement which truly made people hate him. He thought he was the greatest guy around, and looked down on everyone else. He figured that he was owed everything, and that people should just clean up after him. He felt that people should judge him based on the wonderfully great person he was inside, and not on his smell.

So he decided that if these people, whom he was forced to live with, could pull off a party, he could as well. I remember first hearing about it two or three weeks after the Wolverines party. Him strutting around talking about the kegs he had bought (not realizing, I guess, what a financial disaster the Wolverines party had been), and saying, “Oh fifty people at least. Probably more.”

Everyone else was sitting around laughing about the BIG party coming up. Jason wants a party of his own, isn’t that cute. I might’ve skipped it, except for one thing; Jason had gone up to the other denizens of the household and said, “I don’t want that asshole Dan here.” Naturally I couldn’t miss it. To me it was simply a matter of letter count. Drop four letters, “d,o,n and t,” and voila “I want that asshole Dan here,” popped up. Besides, “Everyone was going to be there,” so it was the social must of the season.

On the night of the party, I showed up two hours late and sauntered on in, remarking to myself on how quiet and uncluttered by cars the street was. I burst in the front door, and saw Mike, Aaron and Ann sitting on the couch, chuckling into their beers. The TV was playing, always the sign of a rocking party, and I heard a few others shuffling around in the back. 

“Hey Dan,” Ann said, “It’s five dollars for the beer.”

“I’m not paying any fucking money.” I declared and promptly walked over and poured myself a cold one. No one said a word.

It seems that there were not fifty people at the party. A few had shown up, drank a beer and then promptly left. That had been in the first hour, and then nothing. A few others with nothing else to do remained. The largest amount of people attending were those who lived there and those who had shown up to make fun of Jason.

Jason came out, followed by two foul female friends of his. He saw me and his shoulders drooped lower. He was so despondent that he didn’t even ask me for money for the beer. Two others came out; they were foreigners I believe, who didn’t know too many people in the area. A nice enough couple, which had been sucked into this web of lies called a “party.”

“Hey Jason,” I yelled. “Big wild party! Woo-hoo!”

A few other cat calls came out from the couch crew, and I poured myself another brew. Jason retreated back to his room at this point, with his female cohorts. The rest of us sat around chatting, watching tumbleweeds blow through the place. Jason emerged a few more times and was treated to more insults.

Soon the two other females went home, and there were none but the foreigners left. Jason came out and got himself a drink. At this point, all we were doing was smirking at him with knowing looks on our faces. Then the foreigners proclaimed that they were tired, and had decided to leave. Jason became panicked, there would be no-one left of his grand gala, except people who hated him and wouldn’t pay him a dime for his cheap beer.

“Hey we should go out some place and have some fun.” Jason said, begging to be taken from his own party.

“No no, we’re very tired.” They said.

“Come on. We’ll go out and have a drink somewhere or something. Let’s go out.” 

“No no.”

This went on for about five minutes, until they finally just left, and Jason, poor defeated Jason, slunk back to his room, and did not come out again for the rest of the night.

So ended the party that never was. We finished the beer, and called it a day. Again there was a place, beer, people drinking the beer, but it was no party. At least not for Jason. 


3 Responses

  1. This was Jason’s 80’s party. Jason had a portable Pac-Man game, and various other 80’s gear around. I know what you are saying, “an 80’s party sounds great!” Maybe now, in 2007 it does, but this was 1993. Who wants to celebrate the 80’s three years after it ends.

  2. Perhaps we need to have an 80s party.

  3. To match the splendor of this one we only need Rai-Ann, the Chandraguptas, and a keg of Golden Anniversary Beer. There is one detail Dan got wrong. Jason did indeed whine until the foreign couple took him with them, albeit none too happily. Their sense of politeness that brought them to the party was also the very mechanism that prevented them from escaping unscathed.

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