Author's Note: Sorry for the delay; I've been busy all weekend. But anyway, here it is- the Christmas party! Enjoy!

Chapter 10

Three hours later, Captain Haddock could barely believe that he was still in his own house.

Through Castafiore's direction, the mansion had been transformed into a glittering celebrity gala. A full-fledged jazz band had been set up on a temporary stage in the parlor, playing classic holiday favorites like 'Jingle Bell Rock' and 'Happy Xmas (War is Over)' (not, by any means, the Captain's favorite music— he hated jazz— but it was Castafiore's party, not his).

The behemoth Christmas tree had been finished shortly after Bianca's bathroom accident, and the workers had been quickly paid and shipped back to the village. When Haddock looked at it, he was reminded more of a giant pink and golden triangle than a tree, but he had to admit that it did look stunning. In an overdone sort of way.

All decorations had been finished just in time for the party to begin. At 3:45, the guests arrived, all twenty-six of them: the counts and countesses, lords and ladies, and dukes and duchesses of the music world. Castafiore somehow even managed to snag the queen of some distant European country, who arrived in full regalia with at least ten personal attendants.

By 4:00 in the evening, Bianca Castafiore's Christmas party was in full swing.

The Captain had meant to wear a regular suit, but Tintin had reminded him five minutes before the party started that he did, after all, have an admiralty uniform. At the time, Haddock had felt uncomfortable and even ridiculous in it, but now, surrounded by a glittering crowd of royalty, he was pretty sure that he needed the extra bit of credibility. As he looked out over the crowd, he spotted Tintin, sharply dressed in a dark blue suit and talking with some diamond-encrusted society matron or other.

The lights in the parlor were dimmed slightly to create more of an ambient mood, and wax candles dotted the room. The candles, combined with the sparkling tree and various holiday miscellanea, all came together for an undeniably magnificent effect. The lights of the chandelier reflected off stemmed wineglasses (polished to crystal perfection by Nestor) and the parlor windows, which had been left drawn even though there wasn't any snow, or much of a view to look at.

The party, Haddock had to admit, was pretty well put together. A massive champagne tower had been constructed in the center of the room, which most of the guests seemed to be clustered around, talking and laughing politely about nothing in particular. There were several conversation spots scattered around the room: a table adorned with a silver tray of caviar-filled brioche rounds; another sported carrot roulades with radish and goat cheese. None of it seemed particularly appealing, but the Captain was willing to put up with anything that didn't involve the Milanese Nightingale embarrassing herself, or him.

Captain Haddock had never been much of a party person. He enjoyed cocoa and board games with Tintin, or perhaps the Professor, and he loved inviting over old friends like Chester or Chang. But this party, to say the least, wasn't his style. For the most part he stood in the corner, taking sips from an unidentifiable liquid, looking out over the crowd, and hoping that nobody noticed him.

It wasn't that bad, he had to admit. At least not yet. He had certainly been expecting a party to remember (and not in a good way), but he figured that if he could stay in his corner until it was over, ignoring Castafiore and avoiding contact with her society friends, he could come out unscathed. Maybe.

Feeling strange and out of place, he looked for Tintin, and spotted his young friend on the sofa talking with the Professor; apparently he'd gotten tired of Castafiore's friends already. He walked towards the pair, glass in hand, and sat down on the couch with Calculus, opposite Tintin.

"Hello, Captain," smiled Tintin. "Bored of the party already?"

"Am I!" exclaimed Haddock wearily. To be honest, I was bored with the party before it even started. "You know this kind of thing really isn't my taste," he added.

"I know."

"Snow? Really?" cried Calculus, leaping from the sofa. Before either could stop him, the Professor was making his way towards the window.

"He's going to be sorely disappointed," said the Captain. "No snow to be seen for miles. I've read the weather reports. They predict bucket loads of the stuff, of course, just like they've been doing for the past month. It's not worth the effort trying to believe them."

Tintin laughed and crossed his arms. Suddenly, a skittering of paws sounded on the marble floor, and Snowy appeared between them, panting and clutching a rubber ball between his jaws.

Tintin reached down and grabbed the ball, then threw it to the far side of the room. They both watched the ball's course as it sailed forward, then stuck in an unfortunate woman's styled updo. She immediately gave a little shriek of horror and started clawing at her head.

"That's too bad," chuckled Tintin. "I hope nobody notices that I threw the ball."

"Oh, you're terrible."

Tintin threw his hands in the air. "I would help, but then they'd know I was the one who did it. No, it's better this way."

As Snowy pattered off, Haddock looked down into his wineglass. "By the way, what is this stuff I've been drinking?"

Tintin peered at the liquid. "Riesling, I think. You should know that, Captain. You're the alcoholic here, not me!"

Haddock shrugged. "I just drink Loch Lomond. I was never into all that fancy stuff."

High-pitched, operatic laughter suddenly rang out shrilly from the crowd, and Haddock looked up from his glass to see Castafiore trotting towards him, followed by two friends of hers.

Please, not her. Not now.

Captain Haddock felt as if he was actually watching her clothes get weirder and weirder as the days progressed. Her outfit, it seemed, had been coordinated to match the gold-and-pink theme. She wore a massive, shimmering golden dress covered in a layer of gauzy pinkish lace, gold-colored gloves, and a golden tiara on her perfectly coiffured hair. Pink-dyed pearls hung around her neck, pink ornaments dangled from her ears— ornaments? What?— and Haddock had no doubt that her shoes were also either pink or gold, although he couldn't see them at the moment. The Captain knew nothing about style, but he was convinced that this woman was a walking fashion disaster.

"I said she would be herself again," Tintin pointed out.

Tintin was right: Bianca Castafiore was herself again. More than herself. Tonight, she was larger than life.

"Ah, Captain Hassock and Tintin!" she sang. "My dear, dear friends!"

Too late, thought Haddock. He and Tintin both stood up to greet the other guests.

"I simply must introduce you to my friends, Countess Sophie, of, er…"

A woman with a ridiculous white hat and tailored dress stepped forward. "Sophie, of Northmead," she interrupted, politely extending her hand and looking away.

Tintin quickly kissed the woman's hand and said that he was delighted.

Determined not to embarrass himself, Captain Haddock slowly bowed down and kissed the Countess' gloved hand, then straightened again. "It's an— er— honor," he said, wondering what social mistake he'd made this time.

If he had made one, everybody was too polite to mention it. Castafiore gestured towards a tall blond man on her other side. "And the famous artist, Byram Lashley. Of course you've heard of him."

"Of… of course," replied Haddock, shaking Lashley's hand. "Delighted."

"Delighted, too," said Lashley. "Tell me, what do you think of my latest series?"

Latest series? Captain Haddock had absolutely no idea what this man did for a living (except that it was something artistic), let alone what his latest series could possibly be. "I— er— found it confusing," stammered Haddock. It was a relatively safe answer, given that it could be taken multiple ways, and that it basically summed up his feelings about art in general.

"Confusing? How?"

This is why I hate big parties.

The Captain had to think fast. "I—I thought the colors were a bit strange," he said, unable to think of anything else.

"Colors?" Lashley laughed politely. "You must be mistaken, my good man."

"Oh?"

Castafiore moved a step closer to the group. "My dear sir," she explained to Lashley, "the poor Captain is— how shall I say? Ahahaha!— a bit of a sea-dog! He has a heart of gold, but can be a bit… er, uneducated when it comes to the fine arts."

Haddock was too used to this kind of treatment by Castafiore to be offended. Anyway, it had saved him from trying to explain himself, which would almost certainly have ended in tragedy.

Either one.

Lashley nodded sagely and looked at Haddock. "I see," he replied, as if Bianca had just explained the mysteries of the universe.

Haddock resisted the temptation to roll his eyes.

Tintin gave the Captain a reproachful look, as if to say, you should've been more vague. Or perhaps he was saying, You shouldn't have had so much wine.

Castafiore leaned in towards the Captain, her ornament earrings dangling dangerously. "You see, my dear, Sir Lashley here is a composer. He writes arias for me to sing. Why, I believe you confused the poor man by telling him that the 'colors were strange'."

"Fascinating," said Haddock dryly.

Bianca leaned back and looked over the small group with an indulgent smile. "Lashley's arias really are quite beautiful," she declared. "But of course, nothing will be quite like my— Ahahaha!— magnum opus, the Jewel Song, from Faust!"

No.

Captain Haddock knew precisely where Castafiore was going with this.

Tintin was smiling knowingly, as if he had expected this all along. Haddock gave him a look that he hoped conveyed the right meaning: to stop smiling.

Bianca turned towards Countess Sophie. "My dear Countess, have you heard my darling Jewel Song? It simply sends me into ecstasies! You know, the one that brought me to the lofty heights of fame?"

The Countess nodded politely and muttered something indistinguishable about carrot roulades, then slipped off. At least the woman knows what's good for her, thought Haddock. I won't be so lucky.

"Captain, you've heard my song, haven't you?" Castafiore asked, turning towards Haddock. "It's simply divine, don't you think?"

Captain Haddock swallowed. "Wonderful," he choked out.

Castafiore spread her arms wide and looked heavenward. "Ah! The muses are calling for me! I simply must sing!"

The Captain braced himself for the storm.

Castafiore's voice started out on a deep note, low and resonant. Slowly, it slid higher and higher until it became a terrifying, inhuman screech. "Ah, my beauty past compare!" she began, her voice fluttering like a bird on the highest notes.

The noise of the crowd died down suddenly, until Castafiore's voice was the only thing to be heard in the room. The jazz band stopped in the middle of "Here Comes Santa Claus", instruments cutting off suddenly. They knew who their paycheck was coming from.

Captain Haddock looked down at his glass and felt it vibrating slightly. Oh please, not again, he thought, remembering the mess in the bathroom.

"These jewels bright I wear!" sang Castafiore, running a gloved hand through her strings of pearls. "Was I ever Margarita?"

Her captive audience listened politely, all eyes trained in Bianca's direction.

"Mirror, mirror, come reply!" she warbled, raising a gloved arm dramatically. "Come reply, tell me truly!"

Captain Haddock realized that he'd never heard past this particular part of the song, and as much as he hated it, he was interested to know how it ended.

But Castafiore never got to the end. In that same instant, the double doors of the parlor swung open, and in came two footmen bearing a massive ice sculpture on a cart.

Blistering barnacles, that thing is huge!

Castafiore stopped mid-sentence, looking pale and shocked, as all heads turned to look at the sculpture, which was making its way towards the center of the room. It was an immense, glistening…

"Flamingo?" wondered Captain Haddock, aloud, and he could hear people around the room making the same comment. He immediately thought of Castafiore's nativity scene with its flamingos, and could only assume that she had ordered it, but when he looked towards her, she seemed stunned and uncomprehending.

It all went downhill from there.

Castafiore turned a light shade of rose, then red, then flaming crimson.

This was exactly what I'd been dreading. A full-fledged meltdown. How did I know this would happen? Anybody, Haddock supposed, would be offended at being upstaged by a frozen flamingo, but as always, there was no moderation where Bianca Castafiore was involved. She wasn't just offended. She was furious.

"Who did this?" she demanded loudly, looking around the room, particularly at the ice sculpture. "Who committed this sacrilege?" Everything was completely silent, except for the odd tinkling of glasses, or shuffling of feet. "Who would dare to attack a poor, weak woman like me?"

Captain Haddock thought it might be a good time to step in. "Signora," he began quietly, "why don't you—"

"Out of the way, my good man!" exclaimed Bianca, shoving him aside with surprising brute force. "You! Nestor!" she screeched, pointing an accusing finger at the unfortunate butler in the corner. "This is your fault!" She trotted towards Nestor angrily, eyes blazing. "If it hadn't been for your carelessness and utter lack of propriety as a butler, dear sir, this would never have happened!"

Then she looked at the two footmen who had brought in the sculpture. "And you two!" she screamed furiously. "What on earth possessed you to bring in this ridiculous…" she gestured angrily towards the sculpture. "This ridiculous monstrosity! You are both fired, starting now!"

As the two footmen left, Castafiore seemed to calm down slightly. After about a minute of this, the hum of the party started up again, and the light sound of polite conversation began to fill the room. The music also picked up, strumming out the opening chords to "Christmas in New Orleans". Bianca walked off to chat with a foreign dignitary, as if nothing had happened, and somebody placed the ice sculpture on a nearby decorative table.

"I'm going out to get some air," said Tintin quietly.

"I think I'll come with you," volunteered Haddock, following his friend towards the coat racks.

Author's Note: Can't wait to post the next chapter! (Minor detail: I just have to write it first.) :P

As always, review if you liked it!