Part 1: The New Year’s Party Secrets Exposed.
I accept no liability for what is exposed. You chose to come to the party at your own risk, and Risque it was!
“I love everybody!” The inebriated shout drifted across the pub. It came from Adrienne holding up a tankard of beer.
“Blimey, mate,” John said, “How many drinks has Adrienne had? Didn’t she just get back from touring Europe?”
“Yep, that’s true, and after a few days back home in pussy land…”
“Aussie land, Harry.”
“Sorry, John, Aussie land, she couldn’t stay away knowing we were having a New Years party. She flew back to be here,” I said.
“Well, if you ask me, she’s flying pretty high right now, don’t you think, Harry?”
“Yeah, but she’s a bit special, poor thing, we’re the only three in the pub at the moment, so I guess we are everybody, right?” I said, smiling and raising my jug in salute to Adrienne.
“Yes, and we all love you, Adrienne,” I called back, and whispered to John, raise your mug.
“Oh yeh, Adrienne, cheers, luv,” John said, mug of beer in hand.
Within a few minutes of 7 pm, several people were spotted looking in the open door with curiosity etched on their faces. The look that is asking if there really is a party at the old Cock and Bull tonight.
“Come in, people, welcome to the Medium New Years Party. Adrienne will take your coats, she said to tell you tips are welcome, kisses even more so.”
If I had to hazard a guess, a few of the members had hit the bars before coming here. Take Bruce, a man with stunted intelligence, leaning way to starboard. Nice bit of gold jewelry on his wrist, though.
“Okay there, Bruce?” I called out. It took him a couple of moments to focus.
“Where’s the bar Harry?” He asked in that jovial manner we all love about him.
“Yeah, you’re leaning on it Bruce, which is on your left side,” I explained.
No need, look who is first to his rescue, the heavenly blessed Miss Dixie, wearing a dinky skirt.
“I’ve got him, Mr. Harry,” Miss Dixie calls out, pushing Bruce a little to his left, so that he’s resting his weight on one arm, the arm that is resting on the bar!
“Thanks, Dixie, be gentle with him, he looks a little fragile already,” I said.
“He might look fragile, Mr. Harry, but he’s a chunk of meat,” she said, kicking his legs apart, enabling him to lean like a Giraffe at a mud pool.
“Good job, Dixie, Heaven will reward you,” I said, nudging John’s elbow.
“Is anyone serving vodka, Mr. Harry?”
“Yes, but when you see who it is you might want to be careful letting the barman see you in that shiny sequined top, Dixie, that’s a very deep valley for any of us mere mortals to be staring into. I’m not sure where the bartender is, ah there he is, hey, Randy, get Miss Dixie a vodka, will you.”
“Sure thing, Harry,” push your way in here, Dixie, a vodka? How do you want it? And, if it’s not impertinent, is the Bull with the Balls with you?”
“He is, Mr. Randy. The more balls the better, isn’t that so?”
Randy stepped back, holding his hands high. “I have no comment, Miss Dixie.”
By 7.30 pm, the place was rocking to Rod Stewart singing:
Looking around there were many familiar faces, and this was just the start of the evening, but that didn’t stop Julia playing frisbee in tight leather pants and, wait, who is she throwing to? I can’t quite make out who it is.
“Hey, Nancy, are you having fun over there?”
The frisbee went careened toward her, Nancy, wearing a pointy princess hat, crusted with fake jewels, and trailing a serpentine white ribbon down her back, she tried reaching for the Frisbee, tripped and fell flat on her face, managing to save her Cosmopolitan with a slick twist of her wrists.
The Frisbee hit Michael fair in the back of the head.
“You okay, Michael?” I asked from far away.
He raised his hand, making sure his beer didn’t spill. Not noticing Custard, the cat, had leapt out of his pocket. “I’m okay, Harry, I’ve had worse bangs in the head.”
Yeah, but why did you not know you had Randy’s pussy in your pocket, Michael? A question for later.
I’m thinking, bloody right you have, Michael, starting school at your age is enough to get most people wrapped up and carted off.
“Good. What’s going on over there, Michael? You okay?”
“I’m good, Harry. I’m playing Truth or Dare with Pamela, and I’m winning,” he said.
I thought I best leave them two alone.
So, folks, this is how the party got under way. I don’t want to overload your reading day, so I’ll break it into three or four chapters, saving the last for best. And I mean the best for last! While you’re all chatting away, try and guess who it is does the best Tina Turner impression in the next part?
Adrienne Beaumont, The Sturg, Vidya Sury, Collecting Smiles, Trisha Faye, Karen Schwartz, Nancy Oglesby, Katie Michaelson, Bernie Pullen, Michelle Jimerson Morris, Amy, Julia A. Keirns, Pamela Oglesby, Tina, Pat Romito LaPointe, Brandon Ellrich, Misty Rae, Karen Hoffman, Susie Winfield, Vincent Pisano, Marlene Samuels, Ray Day, Randy Pulley, Michael Rhodes, Lu Skerdoo, Pluto Wolnosci 🟣, Paula Shablo, Bruce Coulter, Ellen Baker, Kelley Murphy, Leigh-Anne Dennison, Patricia Timmermans, Keeley Schroder, James Michael Wilkinson, Whye Waite, John Hansen, Trudy Van Buskirk, | Dixie Dodd | Joanie Adams — Sightseer; Conjurer Of Words | Iosé Cocuzza 🪷| Adda Maria | Dennett | pockett dessert | Men.21times@gmail.com | Nancy Santos | Jenny Blue | Jack Herlocker | Love | Barbara J. Martin | Audrey Clifford | R. Rangan PhD | Maria Rattray | Jerry Dwyer | Denise Shelton | Trisha Faye | Sal Gallaher | StorySculptress | Katherine Myrestad | Deborah Joyce Goodwin (Red:The-Lady In Blue)
Note: Names have been tagged who have expressed an opinion or comment and who may or may not have attended the Medium New Year Party.
(No offense will be taken if you dislike being tagged for various reasons. Please let me know, and I’ll be sure it doesn’t happen on my posts again. If, on the other hand, you’d grace me by allowing a tag, I’d be thrilled to add you.
