Two Parties
Marge hurried about frantically. Let's see, I vacuumed the carpets, washed the rugs, swept, mopped, waxed the floor, cleared away the clutter, washed the dishes, got all the handprints off the walls, made the reservations…!
"I knew I forgot something!" she screamed. She ran over to the wall facing the front door. A fist-sized hole was there. She looked at it, tilting her head this way and that.
"Hrmmm…I know!" She ran off and returned with a framed needlework that read 'Home, Sweet Home'. "Perfect!"
Homer and Bart came bounding down the stairs, their evening coats over their shoulders.
"Bye Mom."
"Oh! Bye! You behave now."
"Don't worry Marge, I'll keep an eye on him," said Homer as Marge rushed to kiss him good-bye.
Brian and Lisa emerged from the living room.
"Are we leaving now?"
"Yup. In the car!" Homer said with a gesture.
"Bye Lisa," Brian said, giving her a quick kiss on each cheek.
"You behave."
"You too."
"C'mon, I'm the Voice of Reason in this family! If anyone can ruin a bachelorette-"
"Shower, Lisa," Marge said, visibly angry, "It's a bridal shower, not some…bawdy bachelorette party."
"Well, you keep an eye on things." He said, shaking a finger half-jokingly. "Lisa. Mrs. Simpson." He donned his tweed cap. "Have fun. We'll be back sometime before dawn."
He shut the door. They heard the revving of a car engine and the squeaking of tires.
"I hope they don't do anything too crazy."
"Don't worry, between Brian and Skinner, things should be fairly subdued."
"Okay," she checked her watch, "Still plenty of time to prepare. Lisa, you make sure the grout is clean. Jessica, go comb the carpets. Hurry! They'll be here any minute.
Two hours later…Ding!
"Oh they're here!" Marge gasped as she hurried over to the door. Edna Krabbappel-Skinner and Mrs. Hibbert were at the door.
"Edna! Sharon! Come on in."
"Hi Marge."
"Good evening Marge."
"Hey guys!" Lisa said.
"Hello Lisa. How's my favourite college drop-out?"
"Contented and financially secure."
"Hmm. Good."
Jessica came in. She was wearing a simple black dress with a jade necklace and matching earrings.
"Oh look at you!" Sharon Hibbert said. She handed her gift to Lisa and went over to hug Jessica. Edna plopped her gift on top of Sharon's and went over to say high to Jessica.
"Lisa, just put those over in the living room."
She rolled her eyes and carried the gifts off. She recalled Brian's Litany of Humility. I must remove myself from me. God before all, all before me. Well, this is Jessica's party. I guess its only natural I get relegated to taking coats and presents. She the presents down on the coffee table.
"So what's the plan for the evening?"
"Well, we're going out to a nice dinner at the Pimento Grove, then coming back here for coffee and presents, and maybe some games or something."
"So, its strictly a PG-13 affair then," Edna said, "Nothing wild or crazy?"
"No, just good clean fun."
"Hmm…" she replied as she lit a cigarette.
"I wonder what the boys are doing…" Marge said.
At Moe's…Brian looked around the dark, dank hole of a bar. To call it a cesspool would be flattering the place.
"More Duff, Professor?" Moe asked.
"Nah. Do you have anything else? Maybe a Guinness or a Harper?"
"Guinness, eh? Let me check the import fridge." He bent over and blew the dust off the padlock on the small refrigerator. After spinning the dial, he opened it up and checked.
"Let's see…some Kirin, Corona, Red Tick, ah, here we's are. Guinness." He took out the bottle, popped off the top, and handed it to Brian. "That'll be five bucks."
"You're mad! For one bottle of beer?"
"Hey, it's imported! My hands are tied!"
"Okay, here. Bastard."
"What?"
"Nothing. Nothing."
He sipped the nearly-expired beer and looked around. Everyone was hunched over their mugs. The ceiling fans wobbled and wiggled, seemingly churning the muckiness in the air.
"Look, this party has died and gone to hell. We need pump some life into this scene." Bart said.
"Son, you don't understand! This is Moe's! This is part of the Springfield experience!"
"This sucks. All in favour of ditchin' this stink hole and whoopin' it up somewhere else…?"
Everyone except Moe raised their hands.
"Okay, okay. But who's gonna pick up the tab?"
"Homer!" they all yelled.
"D'oh!"
They headed off.
"So, where to now?" Lenny asked.
"How 'bout Shooter's?" Mac suggested.
"Nah, it's always too crowded." Carl answered.
"The Black Box?"
"Too exclusive." Carl said.
"The Hate Box?"
"Too noisy!" Lenny answered.
"The Martini Place?" Mel offered.
"Too fancy."
"Guys! Guys! Guys!" Bart called. "There's only one place one need go for fun, folly, and drunkenness! It's-!"
"Oh no!" Brian said, "Not there!"
At the Pimento Grove…The girls sat together at one long table in the back party room. Virtually every woman in Springfield was there: Lindsay Naegle, Kookie Kwan, Ruth Powers, Laura Powers, Edna Krabbappel-Skinner, Dr. Zweig, Evelyn Peters, Judge Harm, Mrs. Glick, Sharon Hibbert, Agnes Skinner, Patty and Selma, Sherri and Terri, Manjula, Alex Whitney, Allison Taylor, Celeste, Jamie, Marge, Lisa, and, of course, Jessica, the woman of the moment. They were all laughing and drinking and enjoying their meals.
"And so then, she walks into the living room, naked, and they turn on the lights and scream 'Surprise!'"
"Ha Ha Ha!"
"Well, I'd like to thank you all for coming."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, doll!" Lindsay said.
"I'm just glad to get out of the house. I tell you Jessica, be careful you don't end up like me, a bored and desperate housewife!"
"Desperate for what? Skinner not enough for ya?"
"Ha! Very funny."
"Well, after our honeymoon in London, Bart and I are going back to work recording. We're working on a new album, probably out around July, and then one album for Halloween and one for Christmas."
"Man, Kookie wishes she had musical talent."
"I always wanted to be rock star. How did you do it?"
"Well, I couldn't have done any of it without Bart. He's just got this energy, he works the crowds like crazy, and he doesn't put up with any of the crap the agents and record company people give us."
"Don't forget Lisa!" Marge added.
Jessica rolled her eyes.
"And, of course, how could it have all worked out without Lisa and Brian writing our songs and managing the money matters."
Lisa smiled and sighed. Just smile, laugh at the jokes. Pretend to belong. I don't, though. She sighed, and wondered how her Brian was.
The Maison Derriere…"Bart! Good to see you!"
"Hey Belle. Like the way you've fixed the place up."
"Well, it's just lucky that I decided to get that Armed Mob Insurance. After the time your mom drove a bulldozer into the left wing, I couldn't afford another disaster." She looked at them.
"Special occasion, hon?"
"Bachelor party," Homer replied.
"Well, I'll see to it that it's the best you'll ever attend. Follow me darling." She led them down the hall and through the red curtain to the main dining room.
"Alright gents, beat it! I got a private party here. Go somewhere else for your booze and soft-core pornographic entertainment!"
Grumbling, the patrons left. The busboys cleared the tables and moved them all together in front of the stage.
They all ordered drinks and steaks, and had a grand old time, getting thoroughly tipsy and full. The lights lowered, and a single spotlight shone upon the red velvet curtains. They parted, revealing a dark female silhouette. The lights came on, revealing a woman, nude but for the large fans she had over her privates. The music started, and she began to dance.
Brian rolled his eyes and looked away. While the others hooted and howled, he kept looking off into space. He put out his cigarette, nearly gone, and lit another. He groped for his glass, not wanting to look and accidentally catch something. He had not want wanted to come, having even tried to convince the party to go elsewhere, but Bart's loyalty to old Belle and the insistence of the party on good booze, good food, and better entertainment overrode his moral objections. O well. Fr. O'Flaherty'll probably make both go to Confession before he'll marry them. He's serious about the Sacraments. He even had the gall to refuse Fat Tony the Eucharist because he knew that he had a man killed the night before. He drained his glass. He looked around the room. One of the busty blonde waitresses saw him and came over.
" 'nother drink, sir?" she asked in a bubbling, girlish voice.
"Yes. Scotch on the rocks."
"Okay. Hee hee hee!" she giggled.
She took his glass and took it over to the bartender. She brought it back and set it on the table.
"Thanks," he said distantly.
"No problem. Hee hee!"
He rolled his eyes and took a sip. He sat and sipped. The music faded out, signalling the end of the performance. He heard the clanging of thrown coins of the wooden stage. Next, came a Cancan dance. He afforded a glance. He smirked. The girls were all in a line, kicking like crazy, their panties showing with each kick. Be glad, at least we aren't at a real strip joint. That would be a mortal sin. He sighed. This was certainly a venial sin, at the very least. Women were being reduced to objects for men to lust after, and were performing in a way that incited impure desire and impure thoughts. Watch the dances, appreciate their skill and beauty, tip well, and think of Lisa. He was saddened at the thought of Lisa. Her strict feminism, even if it had been dampened by her half-hearted conversion (more a conversion of inconvenience, really, he thought), would still surely have been offended by this shameful display. He watched the dance, by wasn't nearly taken in. He thought of Lisa. His love was enough to bar any fantasy, no matter how chaste or noble, involving the buxom dancers on the stage.
At the Simpsons' home…"Let's see, this one is from Edna."
"Ooh, hurry and open it!"
Jessica tore the wrapping from the small box, and opened it. The room burst out in laughter. It was a pair of 'edible underwear'. Lisa rolled her eyes. Lingerie, edible panties…why? If he doesn't want her for herself, then what can she add? Cheap, cheap tricks. She thought of Brian. He never ceased to shower her with praise. Normally, constant flattery from a man meant that he wanted something, most often, to get into her knickers. But Brian had never pressured her. He was a gentleman. The though made her smile. Then she remembered where she was and looked at Jessica opening another gift. It was Alex Whitney's.
"'Pretension', by Calvin Kline. Thank you."
"No prob, girlfriend. Say, can you get me in on the action at the MTV Awards?"
"If I can, sure. Anyone, you want to go to the Emmys, or the Oscars, or meet Billy Idol, just ask."
Laughter and gossip.
Brian…he's had more opportunities than anyone I've afforded it to. He never took a single one, even when I tried. The thought worried her. A healthy, heterosexual male, one who so often told her of his love, not taking the opportunity when offered? Worries plagued her. Is it a physical problem? Perhaps. Doubtful, though. He's healthy, in all other aspects. Maybe he's secretly gay? Hrrmmm…he is very homophobic. Maybe too much. But he's looked at girls though. I even caught him looking at Jessica. And it could just as easily be his radicalism. Hang-ups? Abuse? Gods! Are they all this complex? Well, maybe. None are anything like him, though.
"Jess, this is Lisa's."
"What is it?"
"You'll see."
"I hope you like it," she said with an earnest smile. Jessica opened the box. It was a glittering bracelet, a thin, wispy spiral of platinum wires and tiny diamonds. It looked like the sparkling arm the Milky Way.
"Lis, this is gorgeous…"
"Ooh, that very nice!" Kookie
"Where did you by such an exquisite specimen?" asked Evelyn.
"I had it custom made by Daniel Epstein, the jeweller down in Ethnic Town. Brian designed it."
"Well its beautiful," said Selma.
"Thank you, Lisa. I love it! I'm going to wear this on my wedding day."
Lisa was glad. It cost sixty-five thousand dollars. Brian called it "Our first celebrity exorbitance". It was a justified expense. Lisa thought of how her mother always told her that it was not the gift that mattered, but the thought. But that gift was an expression of the thought. It expressed the sincere love she had for Jessica, who would soon be her sister, and her wish that she simply have the happiest life she could. It said what words could not, that she really loved Jessica, both as a friend and as someone who was loved by someone she loved-Bart. She thought Jessica beautiful, and funny, and tragic. She was a beautiful, wonderful, ridiculously lucky idiot. A beautiful, marvellous idiot. She had never been loved by anyone before Bart. She was all at once worldly and naïve. Lisa envied, pitied, hated, and loved her. It didn't matter if Jessica understood all that the bracelet meant. Lisa had said it.
Back at Moe's…After a night of entertainment and eating, the group returned to Moe's for a few more beers before Otto came by in the bus to take them all home. Homer was thoroughly drunk, and was talking loudly to Bart about being a husband and a father. In a touching moment, he presented Bart with the two piggy cufflinks he wore on his wedding day. Bart almost starting crying, and everyone "Awww"-ed. Brian was sleepy-drunk. The entire world was a warm, glowing haze. He stood up. The world was bleary, and wobbly. He staggered to the bathroom. As he came out of the restroom, Millhouse was standing there.
"Hey, Brian."
"Hey," he answered. His head was throbbing.
"So, I hear…I hear you and Lisa are…a thing."
"Yes."
"Really?"
"I…love…Lisa." Brian stammered, swaying like a sapling in a tornado. Even drunk, he could detect the aggressiveness in Millhouse's voice, and see it in the way he stood. He's drunk…but so am I. If he wants to fight, I won't be able to talk him out of it.
"Lisa…is the most…beautiful woman…I ever shawww-"
"I saw her first."
Brian blinked. The world sloshed about.
"What? What'er'you tal-"
"I've wanted her since fourth grade! And here you come along, all 'Mr. Nice-an-Sensitive-and-Artsy", and you get her like that! Huh!" he yelled, shoving Brian. Brian stepped back, barely keeping his balance. "Huh? I'm nice, I'm sensitive! I'm in touch with my feminine side! What's it you do I can't!"
"First off…if ya got a feminine side…then you ain't all man. Second-"
Millhouse clocked him in the jaw. Brian fell over, catching himself on his hands.
"Look, kid, I like ya. So don't go an' do this. Let it go."
"Get up! I'm not done with you. Let's go!"
"Look, Millhouse, I can fuck ya up bad. Don't do this. We're both in no condition to make decisions. Let's just go sit back down-"
"Coward! Sissy! Come on! I'll kill you!"
"Millhouse!"
"Wow! Chill man!
"Don't tell me to chill!"
"Millhouse," Bart began, "Look, buddy, calm down."
Millhouse swung at Brian. Brian swayed out of the path of the fist. He swung again. Brian dodged. He punched straight at him. Brian caught his hand. He squeezed the fist, imagining it was an orange. Millhouse flinched. He brought his other hand, palm open, at Brian's ear. Brian blocked, then chopped Millhouse right at the base of the neck. He fell to his knees. Brian gave his hand a twist. Millhouse squealed. He grabbed Millhouse's head in both hands, and cracked his forehead against his knee. He keeled over.
Brian turned and looked at them. He swayed a little on the spot. He began to stagger, ambling toward the door. He mumbled some apology to Moe.
"Whoa, wait! Let me get you another beer. Here, have a seat, take a load off."
Brian stumbled over and awkwardly manoeuvred onto a stool.
Bart tried to help Millhouse to his feet.
"Get off! Let me go!"
"You alright?"
"I'm fine!"
He wiped away the slow stream of blood trickling from his nose. He threw an angry look at Brian, then ran out, sobbing.
The Simpsons' home, sometime between midnight and three in the morning…Marge, Lisa, and Jessica were cleaning up after the party. Grandpa had brought Maggie and Eric back sometime after twelve, and they had dropped off almost immediately. Grandpa, too tired to drive back to the home, fell asleep in a chair, and didn't even move when Marge came through vacuuming. Jessica saw Homer's car pull into the driveway.
"The boys are home!"
Lisa smiled. She knew she was being silly, childish, maybe even a touch possessive, but she just was happiest around him. The door opened, and there was Bart, and her father. And there was Brian. He was pale and looked as if he was about to be sick.
"Are you alright?" she asked worriedly.
"He's fine. Just a might pickled."
"Boy, you should have seen him! Millhouse was drunk and picked a fight, and he just whupped his ass, all while drunk off his ass!"
Brian swayed and staggered in. Lisa took his arm. She cringed at the stink of alcohol and tobacco.
"Brian, you said you were cutting back…"
"It was a party though…'sides, I weren't driving…"
"You okay, Bart?" Jessica asked as she kissed him.
"Yup. How was the party, babe?"
"Wonderful. Look," she said, holding showing him the bracelet she now wore.
"Whoa! Look at that!" Homer exclaimed.
"Its from Lisa and Bri."
Lisa led Brian up to the bathroom.
"Can you handle yourself?"
"Yeah. Sure."
"Okay."
Brian took of his clothes. He heard the seams of his T-shirt tear as he clumsily tore it off. He ran a cold shower. He hated cold showers. But he was so drunk, and just barely sober enough to now it, and he knew if the shower was warm he might just doze off and hit his head. The water shot signals through his dulled, buzzing nerves and straight to his besieged brain. His head hurt! Like needles being shoved into his skull. He barely could wash himself he was so blinded and befuddled. He staggered out, and slipped. He fell on his hip. The pain came long after he fell. He tried to stand. He felt the pain, but was able to move. Nothing broken…thank you God. He got a towel and dried himself off. He wrapped the towel around himself, opened the door and stumbled down the hall to the guest room. He found one of Bart's shirts, and a pair of his shorts lying on the bed. He smiled. He tried to pull the shorts on, but almost fell over. He sat down and put them on. He pulled the shirt on. He got into the bed. He crossed himself, and murmured a few prayers. He closed his eyes, and dozed off.
Some time later, he did not know, he felt something warm move up beside him. He felt a thin, female arm around his shoulder, and a body pressing up against his back. He reached up and felt the hand. He reached behind and felt the pokey hair. He turned around. He felt her soft, warm body. He set his hand on her shoulder, felt the soft fabric of her pyjamas.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
He felt her kiss his cheek. The sensation felt like it came from miles away. He smiled, and drifted off into sleep.