The average college student will attend roughly fifteen hundred parties over the course of their college career. I’ve attended about half. All parties are generally the same, and usually what separates the “good parties” from the “bad parties” is how drunk you are. You’ll notice the best parties will not be the ones you arrive at in the beginning of the night, but rather the ones you stumble into at the end. Each party usually consists of one mix iPod shuffle, blasting the hottest hip-hop and R&B music, one keg of beer, one table of hard alcohol and chasers and one roomful of guys and girls you’ll recognize from class, drinking as much as their little red Solo Cups can hold.
Now, you may get the idea to hold a party at your place, which in itself is a very foolish and stupid idea. Unless you have the crazy notion to run around worrying that nobody spills anything, breaks anything, tears anything, or steals anything and then trying to convince the cops that everyone is actually watching a movie and eating pizza. Yeah. It’s much better to keep the party-throwing to losers who enjoy sacrificing everything they hold so dear to their hearts, and keep the party going, spilling, breaking, tearing, and stealing to yourself. So, when my friend Maria’s new boyfriend Manny invited me to a party he was throwing for Maria’s 21st birthday, earlier this week, I wondered just what kind of guy he was.
Maria had met Manny at the drugstore where she worked. They instantly clicked together when their training manager tried to describe the “Ethnic aisle” to them without sounding racist. As fate would have it, Maria and Manny had a lot of things in common, especially in acquaintances, because a lot of Manny‘s friends were in the same engineering club that Maria‘s ex-boyfriend used to attend. Maria couldn’t stop talking about Manny and I couldn’t wait to see the guy who had made my friend so happy. But now…after meeting him? I’m not so sure I ever wanna see Manny ever again.
It was a Monday night, which struck me as odd to hold a 21 year old party, but it so happens, that’s the day Maria’s birthday fell under this year. Manny lived in a neighborhood where the streets were named after people, places, and things associated with King Arthur, so at first glance, I thought surely the people who lived on magical streets would be magical themselves. But Manny was anything but magical. He was creepy.
Walking into the house, everywhere you looked, there were clowns! On the shelves, the walls, everywhere! It made me wonder who their decorator was? The Barnum & Bailey Brothers? I wasn’t really freaked, since clowns have never really bothered me, but just the fact that they were a factor in the decorating design was a little odd. I tried to look beyond the clowns and tried to feign interest in a framed print. Guess I wouldn’t be stealing anything. According to Manny, the picture was done by John Wayne. Who knew that the infamous cowboy actor painted too? But I think the bigger question is…why?
I went to the kitchen to get a drink and was greeted with even more horrifying decor. There were magnetic strips all along the three walls in the kitchen and hanging from the magnetic strips were knives - carving, pairing, filets, and cleavers, hanging like little, tiny swords ready to be used by little, tiny pirates. Well, actually, they were used to cut the red velvet birthday cake, Manny made for Maria. Yes…red velvet cake. Who makes red velvet for a birthday? Confetti, I understand, but red velvet? The party got even weirder when one of Manny’s friends asked him where is folks were and all Manny said was, “They’re not here.” I thought that meant they had moved on, you know, to the other side, but when his friend pushed for further details and Manny said, “They’re gone somewhere,” I wondered if his parents were maybe, forced to the other side.
Something was up and so I called one of the best investigators I knew. My friend Madelaine. Madelaine had a reputation for being able to locate anyone in the greater Tucson area and find out at least three secrets from their past. I knew she was a force to be reckoned with, which is why I asked her to research Manny. She, of course, thought I was blowing the weird mannerisms of Manny’s way overboard. So I had to do my own research. Google.com helped me learn that John Wayne never painted sad clowns. But John Wayne Gacy, AKA The Killer Clown did. Yeah. How convenient of Manny to leave off the name “Gacy,” when talking about the art in his home. That, plus the collection of kitchen knives and red velvet cake, which was probably made by human blood. And that weird thing he said about his parents about being “gone”? Who says things like that?!
I didn’t know what to do. I mean, really, how do you tell someone that their fellow co-worker, classmate and lover, loves a psycho killer clown? I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that it’s the friend who finds out who the real killer is that gets killed off first. And speaking of horror movies, I just got a text from Maria who just now asked me if I wanted to go to the movies with her and Manny. He wants to see Halloween…for the fifth time! I’ve already seen it, so I know it’s an OK-movie, but five times?! Come on! Am I the only one who sees the signs?!
Now, you may get the idea to hold a party at your place, which in itself is a very foolish and stupid idea. Unless you have the crazy notion to run around worrying that nobody spills anything, breaks anything, tears anything, or steals anything and then trying to convince the cops that everyone is actually watching a movie and eating pizza. Yeah. It’s much better to keep the party-throwing to losers who enjoy sacrificing everything they hold so dear to their hearts, and keep the party going, spilling, breaking, tearing, and stealing to yourself. So, when my friend Maria’s new boyfriend Manny invited me to a party he was throwing for Maria’s 21st birthday, earlier this week, I wondered just what kind of guy he was.
Maria had met Manny at the drugstore where she worked. They instantly clicked together when their training manager tried to describe the “Ethnic aisle” to them without sounding racist. As fate would have it, Maria and Manny had a lot of things in common, especially in acquaintances, because a lot of Manny‘s friends were in the same engineering club that Maria‘s ex-boyfriend used to attend. Maria couldn’t stop talking about Manny and I couldn’t wait to see the guy who had made my friend so happy. But now…after meeting him? I’m not so sure I ever wanna see Manny ever again.
It was a Monday night, which struck me as odd to hold a 21 year old party, but it so happens, that’s the day Maria’s birthday fell under this year. Manny lived in a neighborhood where the streets were named after people, places, and things associated with King Arthur, so at first glance, I thought surely the people who lived on magical streets would be magical themselves. But Manny was anything but magical. He was creepy.
Walking into the house, everywhere you looked, there were clowns! On the shelves, the walls, everywhere! It made me wonder who their decorator was? The Barnum & Bailey Brothers? I wasn’t really freaked, since clowns have never really bothered me, but just the fact that they were a factor in the decorating design was a little odd. I tried to look beyond the clowns and tried to feign interest in a framed print. Guess I wouldn’t be stealing anything. According to Manny, the picture was done by John Wayne. Who knew that the infamous cowboy actor painted too? But I think the bigger question is…why?
I went to the kitchen to get a drink and was greeted with even more horrifying decor. There were magnetic strips all along the three walls in the kitchen and hanging from the magnetic strips were knives - carving, pairing, filets, and cleavers, hanging like little, tiny swords ready to be used by little, tiny pirates. Well, actually, they were used to cut the red velvet birthday cake, Manny made for Maria. Yes…red velvet cake. Who makes red velvet for a birthday? Confetti, I understand, but red velvet? The party got even weirder when one of Manny’s friends asked him where is folks were and all Manny said was, “They’re not here.” I thought that meant they had moved on, you know, to the other side, but when his friend pushed for further details and Manny said, “They’re gone somewhere,” I wondered if his parents were maybe, forced to the other side.
Something was up and so I called one of the best investigators I knew. My friend Madelaine. Madelaine had a reputation for being able to locate anyone in the greater Tucson area and find out at least three secrets from their past. I knew she was a force to be reckoned with, which is why I asked her to research Manny. She, of course, thought I was blowing the weird mannerisms of Manny’s way overboard. So I had to do my own research. Google.com helped me learn that John Wayne never painted sad clowns. But John Wayne Gacy, AKA The Killer Clown did. Yeah. How convenient of Manny to leave off the name “Gacy,” when talking about the art in his home. That, plus the collection of kitchen knives and red velvet cake, which was probably made by human blood. And that weird thing he said about his parents about being “gone”? Who says things like that?!
I didn’t know what to do. I mean, really, how do you tell someone that their fellow co-worker, classmate and lover, loves a psycho killer clown? I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that it’s the friend who finds out who the real killer is that gets killed off first. And speaking of horror movies, I just got a text from Maria who just now asked me if I wanted to go to the movies with her and Manny. He wants to see Halloween…for the fifth time! I’ve already seen it, so I know it’s an OK-movie, but five times?! Come on! Am I the only one who sees the signs?!
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