So I’m sitting on the couch last week with Stephanie watching the Bears defense completely manhandle the Cowboys.
Stephanie is a Cowboys fan. This is her one minor flaw. I’m really working at looking past it.
Myself, I was raised a Bears fan. I grew up idolizing Walter Peyton. I don’t have a VCR but I still kept my Super Bowl Shuffle VHS tape. It’s a bit of a family heirloom now.
Gentle readers, you would have been proud of me for saying things like “Poor Tony Romo” as he threw interception after interception. I was busy comforting Stephanie with soft, gentle shoulder rubs and words she needed to hear like “At least they aren’t losing to the Redskins” and “But your tight end is really playing well” and “This new punter can really pin the ball in the corners.”
You know, romantic shit.
The door bell rings, Jessie answers it in her mud mask. I can vaguely hear what she’s saying.
“Uh, no…” she said. “Yeah, that’s not my thing. But you know, Lazlo and Stephanie are into that.”
More inaudible conversation.
“Well they can bring guests if they want,” a woman says.
“You know, they a couple friend Tom and Jackie that I know would be into that,” Jessie says.
She shuts the door, walks into living room and drops a card on my lap.
“I just accepted a party invitation from Linda Horbitz on your behalf.
“What?” I said. “I hate her.”
“Lazlo, you be nice,” Stephanie said.
“She totally weirds me out, Stephanie,” I said. “Her husband is a douche bag supreme.”
Stephanie opened the card and it read:
Don and Linda Horbitz Request Your Attendance For A Special Halloween Celebration
WHAT: The Greatest Halloween Bash Ever
WHEN: September 29, 9 pm – ??
WHERE: The Horbitz House
WHY: Because adults like to have fun too
“Geez, it’s not even October,” I said.
Stephanie squealed with excitement.
“Lazlo, we have to go! I love Halloween parties.”
“You two are definitely going,” Jessie said. “I told her Jackie and Fossil Tom would go too.”
“I don’t think Jackie does costumes,” I said.
Stephanie suddenly became a 10-year-old
“We’re going. We’re going. We’re going.”
Stephanie instantly started making a list of potential Halloween costumes.
“What do you want to be?” she asked me while we were laying in bed.
“Uh, I don’t know.”
“What was your favorite costume ever?”
“Uh, one year I went as a terrorist. That was right after 9-11. No one thought it was funny.”
“A zexxxy terrorist?”
“Come, on. I don’t do sexy.”
Me: Katie Perry and that loser Brit she married
Her: No, they broke up. What about Anthony and Cleopatra?
Me: Lame. Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love
Me: I have to have a shot gun blast make up affect
Me: What about Kenny Powers and April Buchanan
Stephanie called Jackie and begged and pleaded her to go. Jackie said no. Stephanie got mad about her being a “stick in the mud” so after months of not talking I called Jackie on the sly and begged her to attend with us.
“I’m trying to get Tom to do non drinking activities,” Jackie said.
“Did he stop drinking?” I asked.
“No,” she sighed.
“Then he might as well be drunk with us,” I reasoned.
“But I don’t do costumes,” she said, with a hint of whining in her voice.
“There was that time you dressed like a school girl and then the other time as a secretary and don’t forget when you went out and got that whip…”
“Stop it, perv.”
“Come on,” I said. “I haven’t seen you in forever. It will be fun. I promise.”
“Fine, I’ll call Stephanie.’
So Stephanie put together the costumes. She could have bought them but, well, she’s really into the crafty stuff. It was sweet, actually. She brought her sewing machine and hot glue gun and basically made me a Kenny Powers baseball jersey from scratch. All I had to do was get a wig and some awful looking sunglasses.
Tom and Jackie came over early. Tom was dressed as Zorro and Jackie was dressed as some sort of Mexican harlot. Tom had obviously been pre-gaming pretty hard already. When ever Tom and Stephanie weren’t looking Jackie flashed me her “You’re a fucking asshole” look.
We headed over to the Horbitz party and, well, instantly I could tell something was not right. For starters, heavy curtains were blocking the windows.
We knocked on the door and Linda Horbitz answered. She was dressed as a Greek goddess, which is normal. But what’s not normal is having a heavily pierced titty hanging out of your tunic.
“I’m so glad you guys could make it,” she said.
Her eyes were blood shot and she had that god awful asphalt breath that you only get from smoking tons of weed.
We walked in and the first things I noticed were:
- A 50-year-old lady in a really short girl scout outfit bending over picking up pretzels with… no panties on.
- Douche bag Don Horbitz in a loin cloth, feathered headdress and war paint with name tag that said “I’m a Man Whore”
- Some guy dressed like the Joker holding a leash attached to some girl dressed like Cat Woman.
“Well, this is pretty special,” I finally said to Linda.
“Isn’t it?” Linda said. “This is first time we’ve ever hosted our club’s Halloween party. Don was really excited to hear that you guys are swingers too.”
“We’re what?” Jackie asked.
“Swingers,” Linda said. “I thought maybe Jessie was into the lifestyle so I invited her but she said it’s you that likes to get kinky, Lazlo.”
“Make yourselves at home,” Linda said and then walked away.
“I’m going to kill you,” Jackie said through clenched teeth.
“I didn’t know. Did you know Stephanie?”
“I totally didn’t know,” Stephanie said.
Then Tom chimed in…
“We can’t just leave. Besides, I haven’t been to one of these since my second marriage.”
“When was that?” I asked.
“Uh, I think 1979,” he said
“I was 5-years-old then,” I said. “You are fucking old.”
It didn’t phase Tom, who announced he was ready to party and rushed off to meet some new and interesting people.
We wandered into the kitchen and were told by lady who was 40 pounds overweight and dressed in red latex that the beer was “out back.”
“I take it you came as an Earl Campbell’s Hot Link?” Jackie asked.
Stephanie grabbed my arm.
“You have to get my beer for me,” she said. “I can’t go over there.”
And then I saw the keg was surrounded with naked guys in body paint.
I got the beers. We drank very fast. We kept to ourselves. We gawked at people. Eventually I had to hit the bathroom. En route, I was asked to join some lady in a bed room.
“Uh, I don’t have any condoms.”
“There’s a bowl of them in the living room,” she said.
“I need the Magnum sized,” I said.
I rejoined Jackie and Stephanie outside. They were eating cake.
“The penis cake is really dry and I think a red velvet vagina cake is sort of… tacky,” Stephanie said.
“I wanted to make nachos but, yeah, there was a dark curly hair in it,” Jackie said.
“I can’t tell if the pot of cocktail weenies and meatballs in chili sauce was suppose to be sexy, ironic or if Linda Horbitz is just a shitty cook,” Stephanie said.
The booze helped us lighten up. Things were fine. It was actually fairly funny. The people were, well, pretty lame. I got the feeling I was in a some sort of Star Trek meets Comic Con meets AARP national convention mash up, with nudity.
The girls were having fun turning down people wanting to hook up.
“Period, heavy flow,” Stephanie said.
“Diarrhea, even heavier flow,” Jackie said.
After a couple of hours Jackie suddenly got a worried look on her face.
“Where’s Tom?” Jackie asked.
Fuck… We hadn’t seen the guy since we arrived.
Jackie left to look for him. Stephanie and I hung out and watched some dude dressed as a viking fuck a girl dressed as Hello Kitty on the Horbitz’ swing set.
“That’s just wrong,” I said.
“I know, that viking blew his load all over the slide,” Stephanie said.
“Oh, I meant that the rusted chains and mildew coated swings got her outfit all dirty. It looks like Hello Kitty crapped her pants or something.”
“Maybe she did,” Stephanie said.
Jackie came back. She was fuming.
“Tom is in the front yard. We are leaving and going to your house. Now.”
Back at the house, Tom was a mess. I had him outside in the back yard. Jackie was alternating between crying and screaming in the kitchen with Stephanie.
Tom’s Zorro shirt was ripped open, exposing his beer gut and ample amount of gray chest hair. Someone had written “slut” across his chest with pink lipstick. He reeked of sex.
“Strip down to your underwear,” I said.
“Again?” he slurred.
“Huh? No, asshole. I’m hosing you off.”
He screeched like an abused cat while I shot cold water all over him, begging me to stop.
I turned the water off and he collapsed in a lawn chair.
“What the fuck happened to you?” I finally asked.
“I was doing shots. And then they lit a hookah. And there was Viagra. And they were chanting “Zorro, Zorro” and someone ripped open my shirt.”
“There were guys and girls and some guy dressed like a girl and someone in a wookie mask and I just sort of lost it.”
“Oh God Lazlo, I think sucked another guy’s dick.”
You know, when it comes to whether or not you’ve had a penis in your mouth. There’s no “Whoops, I didn’t mean to do that” at all. You either get on your knees and cock gobble or you don’t.
“Dude, you sucked on a penis?”
“I didn’t mean to do it. It was an accident. And then Jackie walked in and went ape shit.”
“Like, you tripped, some dude had a boner and it landed in your mouth?”
“Damn it, Lazlo, I voted for McCain and Palin,” Tom said crying. “I gave Romney $1,000. Republicans do not get gay!”
Jackie came outside.
“It’s time to leave Tom.”
He shuffled inside a changed and defeated man.
“Come on, Jackie,” she said to me in a mocking tone. “It’s a costume party, Jackie. It’ll be fun, Jackie. Please, Jackie.”
“Hey, I had no idea it was a swinger party and it’s not my fault your fossil got all faggy with a dude in a wookie mask.”
“Stop calling him a fossil and he was blowing an Arab Sheik not a wookie.”
“Whatever. Make sure he gargles with bleach before you kiss him good night.”
She slammed the door and left with Tom. Eventually Stephanie came outside with a couple of vodka sodas.
“Hey, Stephanie,” I said. “I’m really sorry. I had no idea.”
“I know you didn’t know. It’s cool. You made for a cute Kenny Powers.”
“Well, I took one of the party favor bags,” she said.
“Yeah, how do you feel about glow in the dark condoms and nipple clamps?”
“God I love you.”
“I know,” she said, batting her eye lashes at me in the corniest way possible. “Leave that trashy wig on, please.”