A Party

The setting: a dingy old kitchen with a bunch of hippies – genuine hippies, the real deal: San Francisco in the ‘60s, opium, crystals and later, Dungeons and Dragons. One of them (who always wears cut off denim shorts, tie-dyed shirts and water-shoes) has a snake wrapped around his neck; the snake’s name is Atrocha – she’s beautiful and shiny and looks like she’s been oiled in the light. The stale smells of smoke, patchouli, and body odor linger in the air, tickling your nostrils and clogging your pores. You are attending a birthday party, where 10 or 12 people have convened to discuss the ways in which they are each better than the others. Pomp and Circumstance would fit in with this crowd much more appropriately than any graduation. The birthday boy has turned 53 and comments that no one has touched the box of wine he brought. You notice a box of Bergundy sitting atop the non-functioning dishwasher on which you are leaning. A smart-but-insanely-insecure hippie to your left remarks that no one has touched his champagne either. The tall dark and skinny hippie with the snake exclaims (in an attempt at humor) that no one has touched the heroine either. This comment is followed by silence but eventually yields uncomfortable laughter. After a few quiet seconds, the smart-but-insanely-insecure hippie, who does not care for snake-man, counters with his rebuttal: But has anyone touched the hero?