Dangerous Party

        There was a fat white alligator at the party that kept sidling up to one or the other of the 3 smaller children at the event. I managed to stomp the alligator’s tail as it was about to snap one of them up.

        The alligator just looked at me “What? I was just going to…”

        “Taste them? I don’t think so.”

        The party entertainment was a giant spin-art machine. I was quickly getting the vibe that the operator of the device was up to something no good, but couldn’t get hardly anyone to listen. I did manage to convince the parents of the kids to take them out, both because of the alligator, and the potential “sexiness” of the game. They weren’t worried that the game could become bloody, even though I pointed out that sharp items being mixed into the spinner, and somehow, all the new paint colors were red, like blood. They just weren’t worried that cut up bleeding people might come flying out, but they were worried that some of the people were stripping down to their underwear to get painted.

        I didn’t care what their reasons were, I just wanted to get as many people out as possible before disaster struck. I intended to pop the circuit breaker and return to confront the “DJ” when the kids and the few we could convince there was trouble were all safely out of the house.

        The alligator wanted to go with the kids, but I convinced him he could help them better by staying between the spin art machine and the door until I got back.

        Before I could pop the circuit breaker off, I heard screaming from the house. I ran back into the house, using a coffee table from the front room as a shield. Someone’s cut up bits were already flung out over the room, splashing everyone with blood, the DJ was about to dump more sharp items into the spinner from his scaffold across the top of the spinner. I threw the table at the cord and unplugged the machine.

        It was still spinning, of course, so the bag of razor sharp items hit the spinner and flashed out all over the room. I was close enough to the entry archway that I was able to climb up out of the arc of fire. A few other people got the idea and jumped up onto other furniture. Still, most of the party was a bloodied tattered mess.

        “Beautiful, I’ve invited some friends over to help enjoy this, would you invite them in?” the DJ asked the hostess, who was obviously bleeding to death.

        “Don’t do it!” I yelled, and raced for the shredded coffee table.

        The DJ braced, thinking I was attacking him, but I dodged next to him and picked up a long sharp spike from the broken coffee table.

        “You figured it out too late!” the DJ lunged at me with inhuman speed.

        “Help me out here!” I shouted to the alligator.

        “I-I-I’m g-g-gonna check on the k-kids,” he stuttered as he waddled out of the room, licking his chops and leaving a trail of saliva.

        I dove for the couch and tossed the remains of the coffee table that weren’t yet stake-like onto the still spinning platter behind the DJ. It broke into thousands of small wooden splinters that went flying everywhere. Including into the back of the DJ, who turned to dust. Unfortunately I hadn’t yet made my way completely behind the couch and my left arm and hand were shredded by the debris as I instinctively tried to cover my face. The couch didn’t fare so well, either, but protected the rest of me, and the party goers who’d ducked behind it earlier. I was glad to see they were all ready on their cell phones to the police.

        “Warn them about the alligator.”

        “They all ready think we’re crazy.”

        “Tell them I have a gun and I’ll take care of it myself.”

        “Why?”

        “Just tell them.”

(I had a friend who had a long time trouble getting police to respond to problems in his neighborhood. One time he was so frustrated, that, as he hung up the phone on the sheriff’s department, he said out loud. “My friend’s brought his shotgun, we’ll take care of it ourselves.” He swears there were sirens within 30 seconds. That happened almost a quarter century ago.)

I woke up with my arm all pins and needles where I’d slept on it funny.

Ad astra per technica,

FF