CHAPTER 7: HOUSE PARTY, PART 2
It is long past time for most businesses to open, preparing themselves by their owners for another day of sales and exchanges made to perpetuate the economy of their home country. This process of receiving revenue, in turn, brings revenue to those who own the business and their employees, who rely on these businesses to afford basic goods and survive.
These working people take over many jobs, taking on employment in areas of business from making the goods you buy, whether it be food or clothing or any other material item, or dealing in areas that handle the less pleasant aspects of life that you and I would rather not do, such as waste disposal and dirty jobs.
But there are also those who work in jobs which give us information regarding the world as a whole, letting us in on the current happenings in the world, which we colloquially call 'the news'. These are the people who seek out and find information that the world needs to know, and how they must apply this knowledge to their lives in order to survive in a world that changes without end.
One such person is a young woman named Regina 'Reggie' Rocket. As the alarm to her clock sounded its blaring, shrill beep, Reggie found herself snapped out a pleasant dream, one where she was surfing the waves of the ocean, as she did so long ago when she was young.
As the childhood thoughts of the saltwater of the ocean faded from her mind, she got out of bed, preparing to head to her job as required of her by society and adulthood.
Now out of bed, Reggie began to move through her morning rituals of work preparation: Bathing herself, brushing her teeth, applying hygiene products, and getting dressed. Reggie was never one to care too much about her hair like other women, so a simple quick brush did the job just fine, allowing it to keep its curly midlength.
Heading outside and locking the door to her home, a humble, rent-controlled apartment, behind her, Reggie stepped inside her car; a small, rugged, cheap thing produced sometime in the late 1990s, but effective enough to get its driver where she needed to go.
Putting in the key to the car and turning it, Reggie turned on the air conditioner to combat the hot weather, finally ready to begin her drive to work.
As the car's power began to started the machine, she pushed the pedal to the gas down gently, at last beginning her drive across Ocean Shores to work. Making her way down the streets of Ocean Shores, Reggie's drive begins and remains a simple, pleasant drive, having no heavy traffic or troubles in her way.
As she continued on her drive, she looked onto the streets as she passed them by. Most times during this drive she has taken many times over, she would feel a sense of nostalgia for the days when she was young. Today, however, her thoughts are instead on her family, focusing her mental effort on her father and brother.
Her father, Ray Rocket, is a man of little in the way of formality or tradition, opting to raise his children as if they were his best friends. Surely no child can turn down the chance for a parent who one can enjoy life with as well as draw support and life lessons from, but it is how this style of parenting has affected her brother.
Her brother, Otto Rocket, is a man of little in the way of responsibility or maturity. He has been focused on sports, only sports, and nothing but sports since he was a child. Their father's own shared interest in extreme sports has in turn fueled much of his own, but it has led to him losing all interest in partaking in the necessary actions of adulthood in order to be considered a successful human being.
Her mental strain is put on the struggle and estrangement between the two males, but it is lost on her how the dynamic has changed her as well.
Responsible as an adult she is considered, but the sense of fun she once indulged in is a pleasure that she has not reached in her for some time, instead having her need for maturity grow over it and obscure thoughts of freedom and joy that once comprised her childhood.
It is true that Otto has far too little responsibility, but has Reggie become the mirror image of him? Taking on too much responsibility and neglecting the inner child in herself which relies on pleasure and fun to thrive and survive? An attempt to prove that she is no 'loser' as she would label her brother?
Anyone can agree that the answer is 'yes', but how many would agree that her actions are as equally as estranging to her family as Otto's own? Much less agree?
Much less Reggie, who needs this information the most?
What irony it is that a young woman whose job it is to receive and distribute information is lacking in vital information to herself, but the aforementioned job now calls on her as she arrives to it. Turning off her car, Reggie stepped out of it and walking towards the building of Ocean Shores Today.
Before entering the offices of Ocean Shores Today, however, Reggie noticed a peculiar difference regarding the building housing her place of employment. The various office chairs and furniture that was once inside was being moved out by large, burly moving men, being taken into a truck to be hauled away.
The sight is enough to make her question whether or not she arrived to the correct location, but force of habit alone is enough to tell her that she did. Confused by the unusual event happening in her place of employment, she walked past the moving men to enter the main building.
Inside, she saw much of the same taking place inside as outside, witnessing desks and chairs, tables and other furniture, anything not bolted to the floor or part of the building's infrastructure, being taken away by the movers, as if the building itself was being strip-mined for all it was worth. Further confused, she moved past the movers, seeking out the main office of her boss for an answer.
As she began to make her way to the office of the editor-in-chief of Ocean Shores Today, she noticed her co-worker Matt in her path, holding in his hands a piece of paper that resembled a paycheck. Hoping for a simpler answer from one of her trusted co-workers, she stopped him to find an explanation for the change of workplace.
"Reggie! Sweetie, what are you doing here? An early bird like you, I would've thought you would've gotten your check before me. Or did you not get the same call as me?" Matt asked.
"Matt, what the hell's going on?" Reggie asked.
"Well, what's it look like? They finally shut this place down."
Casual nor calmness are what Matt speaks with to share such a revelation of news, but excitement, which brings Reggie to look back at him in complete shock.
"WHAT?! What do you mean, this place is getting shut down?" Reggie asked.
"Exactly like I said. The boss-man called me early this morning and told me to come pick up my final check." Matt said.
"But how could he close Ocean Shore Today down?! He literally just got bought off by a total millionaire!"
"Guess he wanted to cash his chips in as early as he could."
"What- But how are you so happy about it?!"
"I got a pretty big severance pay. I'll finally be able to pay off my student loans and start a real job, maybe even move my parents out of here. Let's be real, Reggie, we weren't getting anywhere with this job. This town's a dead horse waiting to be put out of its misery. Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta pack. My family's moving down to Florida now. See you around!"
"But, but, but-? But-?!"
Shocked and appalled by her now former co-worker's eagerness to leave his now former place of employment, carrying disdain for his apparant lack of loyalty or love for his job, Reggie turned her attention away from the departing Benedict Arnold to the General Washington, more than ready to deliver her boss her questions.
Approaching her boss' office, which was not yet devoid of any furniture, but did include its sole occupant packing up the last of his belongings, Reggie found her specified target and stomped towards him with anger over his betrayal. Having more than enough money to ward away his troubles, her boss paid no mind to her visible anger, instead greeting her with a smile and chuckle.
"Well, look who finally decided to show up. If I didn't see you in the next hour, I would've been forced to tear your last check." The boss said.
"What the fuck is going on?! How could you shut down the paper after a literal millionaire just gave us a huge check? That should've been more than enough money to keep us moving for decades!" Reggie shouted.
"Reggie, calm down, dear. This was gonna happen sooner or later. I mean, how many times can we reprint the same 2 or 3 stories in a ghost town before our few readers just go online for their news anyway? This is the perfect time to cash in, each and every one of us walks out of here with a big severance pay. Speaking of which..."
The boss then reached into his suit pocket and pulled out an envelope, handing it over to Reggie. Looking at the envelope with skepticism, Reggie did not take the final paycheck as offered, instead looking at the envelope with disdain and disgust, a move which led the boss to urge her to take it verbally.
"C'mon, Reggie, it's your money. Take it." The boss said.
Snatching away the envelope, Reggie continued to stare down her boss, angrily voicing her concerns.
"You think that's it? You hand me a check and send me on my way, like nothing I did mattered?" Reggie asked.
"Reggie, you haven't even looked at the check." The boss said.
"I don't need to. This is my job, where I poured my heart and soul into. It may not have been much in the final days, but it was at least something I worked on, goddammit."
"And you got a nice, handsome reward for all your hard work. Look at the paycheck, go ahead."
Unhappily complying with her boss's request, Reggie tore the envelope open, pulling out the paycheck inside to read the payment made on it. The large amount written on the check is enough to finally gain an emotion other than rage from her, making her nearly blush at the numerical amount written, but it is still not enough to distract her from her primary mission.
"Listen, I don't care how much of Alex Gravity's money you throw at me. I still can't just up and leave like that." Reggie said.
"Jesus Christ, Reggie, that amount of money's not good enough for you? What do you want, my firstborn child?" The boss asked.
"This isn't about money. This is about doing what I love. You think you're gonna stop me just by throwing some obscene amount of money at me?"
"Reggie, in my defense, that is a lot of money. Take it, move out of this place, and get a job at some other paper if you really want to keep working. Me? I'm not wasting anymore time here. I'm off to accomplish my dream of living it up in Florida, sipping on mojitos on the beach. A different beach than this one, anyway."
"I'm not gonna leave my home, you asshole! My family lives here, I've lived here my whole life, this is my home. You're not gonna get away with this."
"Oh, really? I don't know whether or not you noticed, but this isn't a matter of getting your job back after you get fired. The job no longer exists. Ocean Shores Today no longer exists. It's gone. Done. Kaput. You don't have a choice. Take your money and do whatever you want with it, but there's no more job for you here. It's over."
There is no more argument or fight that Reggie can put up against her former boss to keep her job and her passion, and she knows that nothing she says or does can make a difference in terms of reaching her objective. There is nothing else for her to do but leave with her money, a choice, or lack thereof, that she does not like.
Angered at the betrayal by her employer put upon her, Reggie kicked a wall with a scream, storming out of the building shortly thereafter.
Her journey is made back to her car, where her anger made her slam her car door shut as she entered. Unable to hold back her emotions any more, she let them out in full once the safe haven of her car was reached. Planting her face into her hands, leaning up against the car's steering wheel, she began to cry, mourning over the lost work that she so loved.
The money she was given is more than enough to settle many of her financial troubles for a long while, but what after that? And what of the human spark and need to work and create? What about her need to prove herself a winner and be someone that her family can be proud of?
These are internal questions and struggles that no money can buy ignorance to.
It is a long, hard journey for Otto and Twister to make their walk to Eddie's home, forced to make their arrival to his house party on foot rather than by skateboard or any other means of transportation. Worse yet, they are forced to carry obscene amounts of beer and other alcoholic beverages with them, making their walk all the slower and painful from the extra load to carry.
Somewhere along the way, the two found an abandoned cardboard box during their walk, an item which greatly increased their speed with an easier means of carrying their alcohol. The box had only done so much good, however, as it was not big nor strong enough to hold all the goods.
Forced to carry the box together, what the box could not hold they put into their shirts and tied them up like knapsacks, tying them to one of their belts with the array hanging over Twister's shoulders. The weight of liquid-filled glass bottles is enough to make the belt start to cut into his skin, which understandably makes him complain about the ordeal to Otto.
"Hey, Otto, tell me again why I have to carry the two shirts worth of beer?" Twister asked.
"Because you're the dumbass who didn't tell me we were out of money, and got us in the situation where we had to carry it all in the first place. We could've been sitting comfortably in the back of an Urban all the way there, but no, you had to open your big stupid fuckin' mouth and make us have to walk the whole way there." Otto said.
"You were telling the guy that we stole from him!"
"The crazy redneck was shooting at us while we ran out of the store with a cartfull of beer! Anybody could put two and two together that we stole it, dipshit!"
"I was trying to tell you we were out of money, dude! Besides, even if I didn't say anything, how were we supposed to pay him when we got there? He still would've been mad."
"Yeah, but we'd at the party, then. Just hook the guy up and get him laid, I'm sure he'd forgive us. Oh, well. His loss now."
"Whatever. Are we almost there?"
Making their way down the sidewalks of Ocean Shores' upper-class area, Otto and Twister began to hear loud, blaring rock music start to fade into their ears from the air, driving them to walk further towards it. When approaching the noise closer, what came into their sight was a house filled with people, hanging inside and outside alike, with a good amount lounging in and around the pool.
Instantly recognizing it as Eddie's house, Twister's question had been answered in full.
"Twist, ask and ye shall receive, we made it to the fuckin' party!" Otto cheered.
As the two both shouted out their victorious cheers, their long journey having paid off its tribulations with a just reward of a promised land. Feeling more adrenaline fuel their step to the house, Otto and Twister immediately made their way for the front door, with the former pressing the doorbell with his foot (as his hands were occupied with what required the most attention, of course).
Opening the door to face them was a grown man in a dark cloak and sinister mask, neither of which looked like they fit him, but instead a young child. The man greeted the two in a mock villain voice, attempting to make his normal voice turn gravelly and evil in a theatrical display.
"Welcome, Otto Rocket and Twister Rodriguez! So, you have chosen to enter my secret lair of secrets after all, coming to join in a ritual that has been practiced by humans since thousands of years before history!" The man said.
"Eddie, cut the crap, man. That thing does not fit you anymore." Otto said.
The man removed his mask and cloak to reveal himself as Eddie Valentine, the host of the party, greeting the two beer-carriers properly.
"I know, I know, man, I just couldn't resist. It's not every day you move out of your home town and say goodbye to all your friends, so I had to bring it out one last time. You guys got the beer, thanks again for that!" Eddie said.
"Yeah, getting it was no problem, getting from here to the nearest liquor store and back was the hard part." Otto said.
"Really? Why didn't you call an Urban?"
"We did-" Twister began to say.
"We wanted to save money and make sure we spent it all on the beer, so you'd get the most for your money. Now you wanna let us in? We've been carrying this stuff for almost 3 hours." Otto interrupted.
"Oh, yeah, right, sorry. Come on in, you guys." Eddie said.
Opening the door for the bringers of the alcohol, Eddie victoriously declared their arrival, as if they were heroes returning from a great battle with great rewards.
"Ladies and gentlemen, our heroes have arrived! We now have beer for everyone!" Eddie shouted.
The announcement got enthusiastic cheers and shouts from the partygoers, each and every member of the party elated at the promise of the intoxicating beverage. In droves, the partygoers gathered around Otto and Twister, coming to their side as if they were demigods or saviors of the universe, all silently awaiting their chance for a drink.
Guided by Eddie to a cooler full of ice, Otto and Twister set their load down and loaded it into the cooler, allowing the beverages to get cold to be better enjoyed. However, for the partygoers, the state of the drinks' temperature was not a concern or problem for them, driving them to take many bottles and cans regardless and start gulping them down.
Taking the last of the beer out of the cardboard box, Eddie inspected it with an uncertain face, finding it to be less than sanitary.
"Uh... Where did you guys get this box?" Eddie asked.
"Somewhere a few miles into our walk." Otto said.
"I think someone either came or went in this thing."
Otto gave an unbothered shrug, not concerned over the origins of the box.
"Didn't the store have any bags you could carry this all in or something?" Eddie asked.
"Actually, no." Otto said.
Shrugging off the strange circumstance and explanation, Eddie tossed the box aside and continued helping them load the beer in the cooler.
Relieved of the load they were carrying at last, like bees concluding their job of pollination, Otto placed his belt back on, with him and Twister placing back on their shirts as well. With one half of the arrangement made with Eddie concluded, there now laid the chance to be compensated for their work, which Eddie took to by pulling out his wallet and counting his dollars.
Of course, the agreement was to have them compensated for the money they spent, but, having spent no money, this becomes merely a con on their part.
"Okay, guys, how much do I owe ya?" Eddie asked.
"Actually, we didn't-" Twister began to say.
Preventing Twister from giving the honest truth regarding the source of the beer, Otto pushed him back and stepped forward to take the chance to answer.
"It was 418... give or take." Otto said.
"But-" Twister tried to say.
Eddie pulled a sum of 450 dollars out of his wallet, handing it to Otto in response.
"Take a little extra for that long walk. Next time you guys have car troubles, just give me a call and I'll hook you up with an Urban myself, okay?" Eddie asked.
"But that's not-" Twister tried to say.
Otto gladly took the money with a smile, shaking Eddie's hand and bringing him in for a hug in response, despite Twister's attempted protests.
"Thanks, Eddie. You're the fuckin' man, we're sure gonna miss you." Otto said.
"Yeah, well, not much business for a magic shop empire in Ocean Shores, even if most of your business is through Me-Bay and Ama-Zone. Anyway, enough about that, you guys grab yourselves a beer each, you deserve it." Eddie said.
Eddie then personally took two beers out of the cooler and handed them to Otto and Twister, urging them to drink up.
"Go on, guys. Enjoy yourselves, this is supposed to be a party, right?" Eddie asked.
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, right." Twister said.
Leaving the two to drink their beers, Eddie stepped away to handle another aspect of his party, ensuring that the experience was going well for all his guests. Given the chance to relax after their long, hard work, Otto and Twister laid back on a couch, drinking down their alcohol to ease the pain and stress of their past ordeal to get to the party.
"Otto, man, are you sure that that was cool?" Twister asked.
"What?" Otto asked.
"We, like, stole all that beer and Eddie paid us for it."
"So what? The asshole redneck who ran the store tried to kill us. And that's after he tried to have us deported. When we're citizens. Ever heard the phrase: 'Victimless crime'?"
"Well, even so, Eddie said he was gonna pay us back for what we paid. We didn't pay anything. So is it cool that we basically took his money?"
"Look, Twist, we're having a hard enough time trying to stay above water as it is. Our power and phone bills are behind as it is, and we're not making any ad rev on our channel. We gotta do what we gotta do to make ends meet. Or else, what are we gonna do to survive?"
The final point is one that Twister cannot argue against, leading him to stay quiet and make no further points of his own, as he no longer had any.
Though the minor ethical question is settled, if in an insufficiently made way, the silence and peace that the two indulged in was then given another break by an approaching guest from the party. Otto is the one she brings her attention to, walking up to him, revealed to be his current partner of Clio.
"Hey, Otto! I've been looking all over for you. You just now got here?" Clio asked.
"Yeah. I had to walk from the next city over to bring the beer. Eddie told me to get him some for the party. You're welcome, by the way." Otto said.
"Oh. Well, I'm still glad you're finally here. Think you could get me one of those beers?"
Otto took another sip of his own beer as Clio asked her question, preventing him from paying attention and hearing it.
"Hmm?" Otto asked.
"I said, can you go get me a beer, please?" Clio asked.
"Bitch, why don't you get one yourself? I just walked for 3 hours carrying this shit here, the least you could do is get it by yourself. You're a big girl, you don't need me." Otto said.
Annoyed by Otto's flippant dismissal, Clio angrily turned away to get her own drink.
"Well, fine. Fuck you. I will." Clio snapped.
As Clio left to obtain her drink, Otto continued to lay back and sip his own, once again getting critical questioning from his friend Twister.
"Otto, that was kinda mean, man." Twister said.
"Oh, come the fuck on, Twister, I'm tired as shit after that walk. Which I still haven't forgiven you for, by the way." Otto said.
"But that's my cousin, man. You could at least be a little more respectful. Especially if you guys are dating. I think, like, you should always respect each other when you're dating."
"Jesus, first, you're going off on me getting us money, now, you're shitting on me for just wanting to relax? What are you, my fuckin' dad all of a sudden?"
"Well, no, I just-"
"Twister, I'm tired as fuck, and I came here to party. I moved out of my dad's house so he couldn't tell me what to do anymore, and nobody else, either. I don't need that kinda shit out of you, too. Just let me be me for once, okay?"
Once again choosing to no longer argue against his friend, Twister went silent in complacency, quietly sipping at his beer.
"Okay." Twister mumbled.
With the rest of the party taking their fair share of drinks and intoxicating themselves, the host of the party stepped atop a chair, calling the attention of the partygoers to him. Beside him was a tall woman with long blonde hair and well-endowed breasts, stepping up to hold his hand.
"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please? First, I'd like to thank you all for coming to my big going-away party, and coming to see me one last time before I leave Ocean Shores for good. I'm gonna miss this city, I really am, I spent my whole life here with my parents before they moved to Florida and left me the company. It's also where I met my beautiful fiancee, Mercedes." Eddie said.
The crowd then let out a cheer for Eddie's fiancee, who meagerly waved her hand to the audience and greeted them with a meager, innocent voice.
"Hee-hee-hee... Hi, everybody." Mercedes said.
"And I'd like to give one more big shout-out to my friends Otto and Twister, and thank them again for bringing us the beer. Really, they've been two of my best friends over the years, and I'm glad to have them here with me tonight. I'm glad to have all you guys, really." Eddie said.
Otto raised his beer with a smile, chuckling after his friendly acknowledgement.
"Other than that, guys, as far as you're concerned, the world ends tomorrow, so live it up tonight, and have fun!" Eddie cheered.
The partygoers once again let out a hearty cheer, dedicated on following through their host's request to live up the night as much as they could.
And as the music for the party started, they began to do so.
[Soundtrack Cue: Killing Joke - Eighties]
To live as though the world is ending tomorrow; this is what Eddie Valentine has called on his friends and followers to do as he brought them to his home. He is but another of many departing the city of Ocean Shores, taking their business and wealth with them, in search for somewhere else that they may prosper.
With no more resources to take for themselves and use it to grow, there is nowhere else to but elsewhere in search of another place to bloom. The saying is true not just for life itself, but also non-living entities like viruses, and ideas. The latter is what is at full spread in this small area of a rich man's house, where partygoers are free to congregate and speak to one another to live up the night.
Their conversations are fueled by alcohol and other substances brought with them like tobacco, marijuana, hallucinogens, and other drugs which make their consciousnesses behave differently, and make the ideas they share, in turn, altered as they converse with one another.
For many, the exchanges are simply a means of trying to woo or bed whoever they wish to copulate with, whether it be the opposite gender or their own. This place is not just a simple house party, but a taste of the decadence of Rome, captured by arrogant youth who wish to disregard the world and all its rules for their own desires for freedom and fun.
Otto Rocket is one who does not need to waste his time with conversation to find another person to canoodle with, for he has his own romantic partner for the long haul. In a drunken haze of beer and a sharing of marijuana freshly purchased the day before, they have nothing else on their minds but to kiss and feel one another on a couch.
They have been at their shared activity for quiet some time, disregarding the other partygoers around them, but there is a desire for more which they realize even in their intoxicated state that cannot be consummated here. Picking herself off the couch, ending their embrace, Clio prepared her way to a room to continue.
"I'm gonna find us a room, bring a couple more beers, would you?" Clio asked.
"You got it, baby girl." Otto said.
As Clio departed, Otto stepped up to the cooler to obtain more beer for the two, making haste in his journey with the desire to bring their paused passion back on its tracks and complete it as nature intended. Upon opening the cooler, however, he found no more beers left, but instead a pool of water with half-melted ice floating in it.
"Fuck." Otto said.
Closing the cooler lid, Otto looked around in search for more beer, dedicated on his quest to please Clio.
Concurrent to Otto's quest for more alcohol, Twister mingled about the party, finding his own way around as his best friend was preoccupied with his own matters. Talking with others throughout the party, moving through conversations that a man of his simple intelligence could only nod and agree along with, he is having a moderately good time, but he cannot help but ultimately feel alone among these strangers.
Moving through the crowd, he wishes that he was with Otto, and having the fun that the two once had as children. Inseparable as brothers in their youth, the struggles of life and need for success has driven Otto away from the traits that made him desirable as a person once, and made him far less of a man to admire.
But the analogy of brothers is put to the test when he bumped into a man who is his true brother, coming face-to-face with the one and only Lars Rodriguez.
As Lars looked back on his brother with a mischievous smile, Twister looked at his brother's T-shirt to show an image of what seemed to be a man looking in a cupboard with disappointment, but the walls to the 'cupboard' were soft, squishy membranes, and at the bottom of the image was text that read: 'WHO ATE ALL THE PUSSY?'
Just as anyone would be around him, Twister immediately tried to put himself out of his brother's sight, only to be stopped with Lars stepping in front of him.
"Hey, little bro. What's the hurry? Too good to spend some time with your big brother?" Lars asked.
"What are you doing, Lars? Who the fuck invited you here?" Twister asked.
"I heard there was free beer. That's invitation enough for me. That and all the pussy available here."
"Oh, yeah? And how many of them were actually willing to let you score with them?"
Lars' mind wandered back to most of his duration of the party, where he would approach various women and make his vulgar remarks and requests for sex with them, a behavior which is considered very much normal with him. Of course, none of his advances were accepted, but this does not stop him from trying in order to achieve what he wants.
A few of his failed lines go through his head again, barely remembering each face he said it to:
"So, have you and your sister ever made a lesbian sandwich? I can provide you the meat if you provide me the buns."
"Who says that's a face that only a mother could love? Those lips look mighty comfortable. Wanna show me how comfortable?"
"Hey, you know anal's really good for when you're constipated? I could help you with it, if you like."
"Well, if you're so concerned about your weight, I know something that could help you lose a lot of calories. I'll even do the eating for you."
"How many beers does it take to piss in your mouth?"
"You know, if you think I'm such a baby, why don't you prove it by shoving your big fat tits in my mouth and let me suck 'em?"
"I eat ass, you know."
"No, seriously, how many beers?"
Back in the present, Lars reflected on his lack of success, deciding to cover it up with a false answer to Twister.
"Oh, I've been banging bitches left and right. Just stopped for a minute to hyrdate." Lars said.
"Yeah, right. You couldn't even come here with a date of your own?" Twister asked.
"Hey, I was combing the high schools all day. Ain't no bitches left in this town anymore, except for what we got here. What about you? You score any?"
"Well.. no. I, uh... haven't. But that's not what I'm here for."
"Oh, yeah? Then what are you here for if it's not pussy?"
"For, uh... Beer! Yeah, I like to drink beer and party."
"Oh, is that so? Okay, well, here, little bro. I got you a beer right here."
Lars handed Twister a can of beer, which Twister looked back at with uncertainty.
"Uh... since when do you give me anything, Lars?" Twister asked.
"Hey, little bro, this is a party. I'm just here to have some fun. Come on, drink up. We'll call this a truce. Shit, with all my other buddies moving out of this city, I gotta make due with what I got here." Lars said.
"I thought they left you because you're a loser. Speaking of which, didn't I hear that you got thrown out of Zero Gravity Zone yesterday?"
"Oh, that? Nah, I just had a little... misunderstanding. Matter of fact, I recently got a new job there. Part of the reason I'm feeling in a good mood tonight. C'mon, have a sip."
Annoyingly taking the can of beer from his brother, Twister chugged down the can in whole, angrily tossing it to the side in defiance of his brother. The display does not make Lars angry himself in any way, but instead brought a smile to his face after the alcohol was consumed.
"There. I drank it. Okay? You happy now, Lars?" Twister asked.
Lars gave a hearty pat on his shoulder, chuckling while doing so.
"Hey, loosen up, Twist. It's a party, we're here to have some fun, so have some fun." Lars said.
Lars then walked away from Twister, leaving him to his own devices. In turn, Twister walked away, seeking out the opposite-most direction from his brother in order to avoid further confrontation with him. Having put the minor encounter out of his mind, h now sought out somewhere to be.
But the encounter with Lars did not leave without its effects, as Lars pulled out an empty bag of a date-rape drug, the contents of which he slipped into the beer.
"I was hoping to use that on a bitch with big titties, but it'll be worth it watching you flip out, bro. Have fun, you fuckin' faggot." Lars said.
Otto's quest to find alcohol was a mission that was left unfulfilled in the required intent, as he could not find any more unopened beers to bring to Clio. Grabbing the nearest bottle that appeared as though it was untouched, he found it indeed had been used, as the cap was missing.
However, upon shaking the bottle around, he noticed that there remained some beer left in the bottle itself, its owner leaving the drink unfinished. Scanning the area for other unfinished bottles, he then got an idea on how to fulfill his quest, moving to collect as many unfinished beers as he could.
Collecting the most that he could carry in his hands, Otto then took the half-empty bottles to the kitchen, sorting out two identical bottles and setting them aside. Digging through the cups and tupperware in the kitchen, he sought out a pitcher, hoping to empty all of the containers inside.
Finding a small mixing bowl, he found a tool similar enough for the job. Taking the bottles two by two, he began pouring the remaining alcohol into the pitcher, grabbing a spatula as well to mix the drinks together. The process is a far cry from any sanitary means of consuming alcohol or proper use of kitchen utensils, but such concepts themselves are far too removed from a man like Otto to care about.
Especially when the prospect of time with a woman is involved.
However, while mixing the unfinished beers together, Otto was interrupted in his mission by a partygoer, approaching him as if he had something important to say.
"Hey, hey, I just figured something out!" The partygoer said.
"Who the fuck are you?" Otto asked.
"Okay, listen to this, I finally understood what Sergio Leone's A Fistful of Dollars is about. It's about class warfare."
"Huh?"
"You know, A Fistful of Dollars. It's a remake of Kurosawa's Yojimbo, which originally wasn't credited as such, but Kurosawa sued and won. He actually got more money on that movie than he did any of his own movies. In fact, there was another remake of it named Django, no relation to the Tarantino movie, that's what he named it after, and it also was the primary influence of Usagi Yojimbo. Great comic book. It's been going on since '84, and it's still great to this day."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Listen, listen. In Fistful, there's two rival clans, and they both live pretty well in the village they're in; they don't fight each other, they don't start any war, they just co-exist. They're doing pretty well because they've got a good system, and they don't wanna screw it up. But Clint Eastwood wants to mess it up. He wants to get rid of both of the clans. Now, of course, both of the clans are full of criminals, but Clint Eastwood's character's no saint, either. Now, if you were Clint Eastwood in that situation, needing to take out both of these clans, how would you do it?"
"Uh... Shoot 'em up?"
"Nope. That's one guy fighting against two armies. He'd get fuckin' shot up in an instant. The key's not fighting your bad guys yourself, but making them fight each other. So what does he do? He slowly but surely builds up trouble between both clans, causing problems and blaming it on the other, and he keeps doing it until, eventually, the clans destroy each other and Eastwood's the last man standing. That's, like, the perfect analogy for class warfare. The rich oligarchs tell you that the 'others' are the problem, like black and brown people, all while they're the ones doing the actual fuck-ups and running out the backdoor with all the money. Just like Fistful, the two groups are dead, and Eastwood walks away with all the money. And this was from the '60s, that just goes to show you how little shit actually changes. Isn't that crazy?"
"Dude, I don't know you, and I don't know who the fuck you are. I just want to give my girlfriend some beer so I can get laid."
Otto then poured the mixture of beer into the two bottles, and then walked away from the wise-minded partygoer, moving away from him as quickly as possible.
"Well... I thought it was cool, at least." The partygoer said.
[Soundtrack Cue Change: Black Flag - TV Party]
Twister continued to step through the party, dancing along to the music and partying along with the many present for enjoyment and pleasure for the night, as if it were the last night of their lives. Without Otto, he, again, is not as enjoying of the party as he knows he should be, and he feels as though he is out of place at this place.
But that small taste of anxiety is not his own, instead a result of the roofie drug that was slipped into his drink as a cruel prank by his brother. It is made all the worse as the drug had continued to make its way through his mind, affecting his thought processes and all bodily functions with it.
His sense of balance is off, leading him to stumble and nearly fall with every step he took. It is now that he begins to realize that something is terribly wrong with himself, but he lacks the mental facilities to properly reason that it is Lars' doing that has sent him to his horrible state.
Nausea is what comes next in the series of problems he is facing, and his instinct is to head to the nearest bathroom to expunge the contents of his stomach.
He is able to make his way to a bathroom, but inside it are two occupants currently engaging in intimate acts of kissing and groping, choosing this place as the one area where they can be alone to engage with each other. Ignoring them, Twister walked straight past them to reach the toilet, lifting up the lid and putting his face over the bowl.
Out comes the acid and alcohol in his stomach, pushing out of his throat and mouth with a force that measured pure sickness and pain. The eloping couple's mood is killed instantly by his nauseous reaction, ending their interaction and stepping out of the bathroom to find peace elsewhere.
"Ew, party foul!" One of the two lamented.
"Fuckin' asshole can't handle his beer!" The other of the two complained.
Left to continue puking in the toilet, the painful expulsion of stomach contents takes place for a good 20 to 30 seconds before the torment finally ends, and most of the unwanted substance is removed from his gut. The substance still lingers in his brain and liver, forcing him to burn through the chemical before he finally finds peace again...
...but, laying on the floor with exhaustion and pain, it will be awhile before this happens for him.
"Otto... help me..." Twister groaned.
Otto is nowhere near close to hear Twister's cries for help, nor is his friend in his thoughts. Instead, all he is concerned about at this particular moment in time is the opportunity to sleep with his girlfriend, and the two beers that he now carries in his hands are the keys to achieving that endgoal.
The beers themselves are not the brand that the containers claim to be, but instead are bastardized mixed of several half-finished beers poured into the bottles in order to pacify the needs of his significant other with as little effort as possible, with his one desire fed in response.
Now with his beers, Otto began looking down the hallways of Eddie's house in search for the room which he would find her waiting for him. Most of the rooms are already occupied, with even the hallways holding kissing couples feeling one another down, but none are the people that Otto is looking for.
In search of the room where Clio was waiting, Otto opened a half-closed door and stepped in, hoping to find her inside.
"Hey, Clio? I got the-" Otto began to say.
What he found in the room was not Clio, but instead Eddie and Mercedes, and both engaged in an act that he can never unsee, no matter how much he wished to.
Eddie Valentine laid leaning over a bed, with his pants down to his feet, and a puddle of semen and pre-ejaculatory fluid directly below his dangling, erect penis. What brought this sexual response stood directly behind him, plunging an object deep into his anus which properly stimulated him to orgasm, and was his significant other, the seemingly sweet-natured and timid woman named Mercedes.
The casual clothing she once wore was now replaced with a full dominatrix outfit, and on her crotch was a strap-on dildo which she filled Eddie's anus with. Her calm and shy voice was no longer coming out of her mouth, but instead a rough, controlling voice which demanded a response.
"You like that, you naughty little boy? You like it when mommy fills your little hole?" Mercedes shouted.
"Yes, mommy, I love it when you fill my hole! It feels so good when you fill me!" Eddie cried.
Shocked and appalled by the horrifying fetishistic act assaulting his eyes, Otto cannot do anything in response but stand and let out a disgusted...
"What... the... FUCK?!" Otto shouted.
Turning to see Otto, notified of his presence by his shout, Eddie and Mercedes responded to him in polarizing ways. Eddie covered his buttocks in embarrassment, hoping that his action would undo what he has already revealed to his friend, while Mercedes pulled her dildo out of Eddie with a loud 'plop', turning to face Otto, and displaying the dildo as having a length of 10 inches.
"Otto... I'm sorry... I didn't mean for you to see... Oh, god..." Eddie stammered.
"What are you doing in here?" Mercedes asked.
"Th-Th-The door was open. I was looking for Clio." Otto whimpered.
"Well, she's not here. And if you want to be here, you've got to join in, or get out. What's it gonna be?"
"I choose 'get out'.'
Turning right back around to the door, Otto marched straight out of the room, leaving the two alone to continue in peace, while he sought out his own mental peace after what he saw. In response to the interruption, Mercedes closed the door and locked it, ensuring that no further interruptions would come.
After applying more lubricant to the dildo, Mercedes then inserted it back into Eddie's anus, pushing it all the way inside his intestines.
"Now, where were we?" Mercedes asked.
"You were filling my hole, because I'm a good boy!" Eddie cried.
"That's right, you little bitch."
The bathroom is where Twister continued to stay for the duration of his unwanted drug intoxication, forced to suffer an uncomfortable and gut-wrenching pain brought upon by a date-rape drug. The substance he was fooled into consuming by his malicious older brother, done as a prank in order to inflict suffering on his weaker sibling.
Lars has been successful in his mission, and, left without Otto for help, Twister is alone and suffering as a result.
But his condition is fortunately not as long as it was meant to last. Another guest had soon made her way into the bathroom, coming to visit the restroom to relieve her bladder. The sight of Twister on the floor, however, is an immediate emergency which takes her mind off her own body and to the barely-conscious one on the floor.
"Oh, my god! Are you alright?!" The woman asked.
Twister let out only a groan, unable to respond in any other way.
"Hold on, I'll give you some help." The woman said.
The strange woman then picked up Twister off the ground, lifting his arm over her shoulder and carrying him out to the kitchen. Seating him on an unoccupied chair, she then returned to the bathroom to take a packet of Alka-Seltzer, subsequently returning to the kitchen with a packet.
Taking a glass and filling it with water, she dropped the tablet inside, letting it dissolve in the liquid and sufficiently mix with it. Taking a seat next to the sickly Twister, she then set the glass in his hand, continuing to grasp it with him, and lifted the glass to his mouth pouring the water into his mouth.
"Here you go. Drink that up." The woman said.
Sipping the water slowly, soon gulping it down after, Twister felt the healing effects of the medicine take place, relieving him from most of the effects of the drug, mainly the nausea and headache he felt. In a more comfortable state of mind now, he stood up straight in his chair, catching his breath against the trauma he lived through.
As he came to a more coherent consciousness once again, he opened his eyes on his savior, coming face-to-face with a woman with long, brown hair, icy blue eyes, and with curvaceous breasts and a large rump. Like many young men around a woman of such endowments, his first instinct is to look at her breasts, taking notice of her low-cut shirt revealing a large amount of cleavage.
"Ungh... Thanks. I needed that." Twister said.
"Uh, hey, guy, my eyes are up here. You're talking to the wrong pair." The woman said.
Instantly realizing his mistake, Twister snapped his attention to the woman's face, addressing her properly.
"Oh, uh, sorry. I guess I was... still out of it for a second. But thanks for the water, I needed it." Twister said.
"You're welcome. Are you okay?" The woman asked.
"Yeah, I guess so. How about you?"
"I'm okay. Not as worried about you anymore as I was before, thankfully."
Downing the last of his medicine, Twister sent it to his stomach, where it could be digested and allocated where it was needed, finishing the last drops with a pleased sigh.
"Oh, that's so much better. Thanks again." Twister said.
"And once again, you're welcome." The woman said.
After taking another look at the Jerusalemite to her Samaritan, the woman began to recognize the one she saved, her face lighting up in delight as she realized.
"Wait a minute! I know you! You're Twister, aren't you?" The woman asked.
"Uh, yeah, Eddie was talking about us earlier. We're the guys who got the beer." Twister said.
"No, not that, silly. You're the kid who was always hanging out at the Shore Shack and skating and surfing all the time."
"Hey... That's right! How'd you know that?"
"Okay, don't make fun of me, but, when I was 10, I saw you sing that Mexican folk song on Cinco de Mayo, and I just... Ooh, I'm getting nervous... I just had a crush on you. I'm sorry, I know it's stupid and cliche and silly, but it's true."
Having neglected his own pursuits in romance, the revelation that anyone has had any interest in him whatsoever is a delightful surprise, bringing a bigger smile to Twister's face, and further eradicating the feeling of sickness in him. The confession brought forth by the young woman makes him interested to continue more, and push through what pain is left to carry on.
"Really? Wow! I never realized anyone actually remembered that. I was actually going through a really bad voice crack at the time, to be honest with you." Twister said.
"Well, I could hardly notice it. You did great." The woman said.
"Thanks... Uh, what's your name?"
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm Naomi. Nice to meet you."
Naomi extended her hand to Twister, which he gently took and shook in response.
"Nice to meet you too, Naomi. Heh. Funny, I'm surprised anyone actually noticed me like that in general, everyone usually wants Otto. He's the most talented one. I'm just the cameraman." Twister said.
"Eh, not really. He was always kind of a prick. You always seemed like the nicest of the bunch." Naomi said.
"Well, he's a little harsh at times, but I wouldn't call him a 'prick'. He's real nice when you get to know him. He's still my best friend through and through."
"Mmm. If you say so."
Finished with his glass of water, Twister stood up to place it on a nearby table.
"N-No, please, don't. I can get that." Naomi said.
Naomi's attempt to take the cup led the two to touch hands for a brief second, making the two pause in thought and action for that moment.
"No, it's... It's okay. I'm fine now. I can... get it myself." Twister said.
Setting the glass aside, Twister sat back down, putting the two at a conversational level once again. The brief encounter is enough to make the two turn awkward and silent, neither able to find the proper words to say to one another, even in the setting of a party when such conversation is encouraged. Naomi is the first to find something to say, finding a topic for the two to discuss.
"Oh! Right, uh... Can I have an autograph?" Naomi asked.
"What, like on your boobs?" Twister asked.
"Uh... no?"
"Oh. uh, sorry. I think I heard somewhere that pretty girls like to get their boobs signed, for some reason. At least, that's what Otto tells me."
"Oh, no, silly, I meant on this."
Naomi then pulled out an old magazine, which Twister instantly recognized as Reggie's 'zine. Surprised to see an artifact from his past, he immediately grabbed it in excitement, flipping through the pages to browse through records of the group's old adventures as friends.
"Oh, shit! I haven't seen this in years! Where'd you get this?" Twister asked.
"I had it since I was little. That one was my favorite issue. That picture where you pull off a 360 on that snow hill? So cool. You're the whole reason I got into skating. I was just at ZGZ yesterday with a girlfriend." Naomi said.
"And you carry this thing with you everywhere?"
"Of course not. I keep it wrapped in plastic and mounted on my wall. I brought it with me tonight on the off-chance that you'd be here, and I could get it autographed. Eddie used to hang out with you guys all the time and he always talks about you two, so I figured you'd be here tonight."
"Well, you were right, here we are. You're smart and you're pretty."
"Aw, you're so sweet."
"Thanks. Anyway, definitely, sure, I'll sign."
Taking a pen offered by Naomi, Twister then signed the copy of Reggie's 'zine, handing it back to its owner as she then began to hop in excitement.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I am so gonna treasure this forever." Naomi said.
"I'm honored. Say, uh, you haven't seen Otto around, have you? I was actually looking for him when I was, you know, sick and throwing up, and I couldn't find him."
"So you were sick and your best friend wasn't there to help? That's pretty messed up."
"Well, I don't think he knew where I was, I didn't even know where I really was. Come to think of it, I don't know where I am most of the time, anyway. But, like, I was in the bathroom. I don't think he would've looked for me there."
"But who cares? You were sick, and I came to help you out. What kind of friend doesn't at least check up on his friend at a party?"
"I mean... Well... he was also going to go somewhere private with his girlfriend, I think. They were pretty much on each other all night."
"Then why bother them? Why not stay here with me instead?"
Naomi then laid a hand on Twister's thigh, making his leg and heart alike twitch in response.
"Obviously, Otto's not got you on the mind, and someone else is instead. But I'm right here. A girl with a childhood crush on you. Do you want to go somewhere private, too? Maybe you'd like to see a girl's childhood crush come true?" Naomi asked.
Leaning down towards Twister, putting her face near his, Naomi also revealed more of her cleavage, allowing her large breasts to hang down and show their size.
"After all, this is a party, and we're supposed to be partying like it's the end of the world. Care to live it up?" Naomi asked.
With thoughts of Otto on his mind, the woman in front of him fails to sufficiently take away his focus on his best friend, regardless of how strong and firm the temptation is. Her soft body is inviting, and her face coming near his own leads the way for a kiss to come, a beginning of what else may come...
...but there is still a strong discomfort that stays with him, and prevents him from continuing. Getting up from his chair, he quickly bid the girl goodbye.
"Uh, yeah, oh, no, wait, I'm sorry, I have to go find Otto. Thanks again for the help, okay? You're a really nice girl and an angel and you deserve the best, okay?" Twister stammered.
The rejection is as sour as any, but Twister's sheepish and innocent rejection is enough to make the damning feeling a slightly less painful experience. Feeling her smile start to fade to a sigh, she nodded along with Twister's obvious tone, choosing to abide by his desire to be let go.
"Oh. That's... That's okay. I also have to look for my friend, too" Naomi said.
"Yeah. It was really nice meeting you. Really, it was. I'm glad you like the autograph." Twister said.
"Of course. So, uh, I'll see you around?"
"Yeah, yeah. Definitely. See you."
Twister at last departed, leaving Naomi alone with her copy of the 'zine. She looked at the name inscribed, reading the name of her childhood crush. The accomplishment of meeting a childhood hero is met, but the desire to fulfill a deeper desire has been denied, a disappointment which lingers over her head for this night.
But what lingers over her from behind is the obnoxious Lars Rodriguez, coming in attempt to pick up the offer that was turned down.
"Hey, baby girl, remember me from yesterday at ZGZ? Why pay for the overpriced, new model when you could have the older, more experienced ride for way cheaper? I'm Lars Rodriguez, Twister's big brother. Emphasis on 'big'. What's your name?" Lars asked.
"Ew. No." Naomi
Naomi then coldly walked away from Lars, leaving him rejected for an amount of times uncountable by the number of instances it has occurred.
"Yo, man, what the fuck?!" Lars shouted.
Elsewhere, Otto still remained on his search for his woman, still with the two compromised beers in his hands. Having exhausted multiple bedrooms in the large, wealthy abode of Eddie Valentine, the possible rooms in which Clio could be found grew smaller and smaller in number by the minute, the chances of finding her in the next stop greater and greater with each door opened.
Coming to another door, he opened it, hoping to find Clio inside the room
"Hey, Clio, you in here? I brought the-" Otto began to say.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
And in this room, he does indeed find Clio, but also does he find more than what he expected to see.
And what he sees is not what he likes, and it is shocking enough to make all his world go silent.
In this room, he has found not only Clio, but he has also found her in bed with another man, kissing and groping each other in a passionate manner reserved only between the two. Their actions were put to a stop only with the arrival of Otto in the room, who both looked back to him with shocked expressions of their own, realizing that they were caught in an action they were not meant to be seen in.
Moreover, they knew they were caught by a man who had already claimed ownership over the woman in question. A relationship is seen as a mutual ownership of one to another, and vice versa, in a contract of trust. The two become the territory of each other, and they are not to be intruded on.
But the territory has been intruded on by another, and the contract has been broken. Like any animal whose territory has been invaded, there is only one response:
Violence.
In half-drunken rage, Otto ran towards the other man with an enraged scream, dropping his compromised beers and jumping on the bed, relentlessly kicking him with the intent to murder. Attempting to defend himself, the man grabbed Otto's leg and threw him off the bed, sending him falling to the floor.
The impact is painful and makes him pause in his assault with an agonized groan, but Otto's pain continues further when the man climbed on top of him and began hitting back with punches aimed directly for his face. Catching the next fist that came to him, Otto punched back at the other man, pushing him off and climbing back on top in a play to become the dominant fighter.
Getting back up off the ground, Otto started to kick the man once again, aiming his kicks straight for his stomach. The continued blows are enough to knock all the breath out of him, leaving him recoiling on the floor and no longer put up any resistance against his opponent.
Otto is soon to be the victor as his enemy began to lose all will to fight, but his assault was put to a stop by Clio, who grabbed him and pulled him away from his victim.
"Otto, stop it! Stop it, you piece of shit!" Clio shouted.
Temporarily taken away from his focus on his target, Otto turned his attention to the other of the offenders, getting into not a physical, but verbal argument with her.
"Who the fuck are you calling a piece of shit?! You were fucking cheating on me! What the fuck's up with that?!" Otto shouted.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I guess I should be happy that my boyfriend's a total man-child asshole, and I don't deserve some actual attention for once!" Clio shouted.
"'Man-child'?! 'Man-child'?! Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?! I'm Otto Rocket, bitch! I'm the best skater this side of SoCal!"
"Proving my point, asshole! You go on and on about how you're god's fucking gift to skating, and you don't do anything else but smoke weed and watch TV in a fucking pigsty of a house! You're a fucking loser!"
"Oh, yeah? Well, then, if I'm such a fucking loser, then why the fuck were you always hanging around my house if you hated me so much?!"
"Because I thought you might actually want to do something better with your life if I could just push you in the right direction, but you never took the fucking hint! How many times have I told you about the future, how I wanted you to come to college with me?"
"For fucking what? Bitch, you don't have any fucking job! You barely went to college, you just did those stupid-ass online classes!"
"Because I wanted to see you! But I can see now how much of a fucking waste of time that was, and I got tired of your shit!"
"So you pick up some fucking chud out of this party and fuck him because I wasn't good enough for you?"
"Yeah, I did! And you know what? I don't regret it for a fucking second! The only regret I have is the fact that I wasted a chunk of my fucking life with you!"
"FUCK YOU!"
"FUCK YOU!"
Clio's more passionate show of hatred was followed up by a barrage of punches thrown to his chest, ruthlessly beating on him like a rabid gorilla beating an enemy into submission. The attack is barely one that causes any damage to Otto, feeling almost no substantial pain from the beating, but it is unpleasant enough to make him retaliate.
Grabbing her beating fists, Otto raised a fist of his own, ready to throw his own punch to Clio. In response, Clio cowered away in fear, letting out a whimper in fear of being stricken by the angered Otto. Though drunken and enraged for understandable reasons, he is moral enough to understand that to throw his punch would be wrong, and he cannot bring himself to do it, no matter how strong the temptation is.
So he lowered his fist instead, opting to retaliate by pushing Clio on the bed, leaving her where she lay.
"You fuckin' cunt." Otto said.
Turning and preparing to leave the room, Otto's journey to the door was made more painful and more expedient with the other man rushing and lunging at him, jumping and tackling him as he made his way to the door. The result of his actions is a destroyed door, broken off the hinges, and both are on the ground again, continuing the fight they started.
Their battle soon made its way into the main party as they tumbled across the floor, now putting their brawl on display for the others to witness. Taken out of the mood of their fun and their celebration, all conversation and music came to a stop as the partygoers observed the fight, witnessing it as if they were watching some historically significant event.
The display of violence is not only mesmerizing to the crowd, but also contagious, leading to one of the partygoers to make his own war cry.
"FIGHT!" The partygoer shouted.
[Soundtrack Cue: Dead Kennedys - Halloween]
In one fell swoop, the celebration and friendly social interaction is brought to a chaotic and unfocused brawl, turning brother against brother, sister against sister, in a mass hysteria of punches, kicks, shoves, pushes, tears, scratches, tackles, headbutts, and other juvenile attacks.
This party was intended to be a night where all pleasures are met and a good time is have for all, and it still is indeed accomplished through this battle. The human urge to fight is as natural and as common as the urges to communicate and love alike, and it is practiced in full here.
To fight is to have one's own ideology and ego defended, proving themselves to be a victor and superior one, a master of one's self and their surroundings. The chance to fight is a chance to have that challenged, whether the fight is wanted or not, and the need to defend their power and honor is one that must be completed.
It is the case for every world power and regime to fight to keep their influence, but what good is that urge here, among a group of partygoers not concerned with power or ideology? Is it perhaps a personal defense of the self, proving that they are their own person, and none of have control over them but themselves? Perhaps trying to establish order in a scene of anarchy, some innate need for order and reason in lawlessness?
Or is it just a juvenile want to feel that sense of victory without the substance that gives it meaning?
Whatever the reason, lost upon the fighters and those who view it without participation, it is not a concern for those who fight. They are concerned only with the fight itself, and taking whatever pleasure they can out of it. So perhaps it is the later of explanations that fits best, that these people want only the 'fun' of violence rather than the need for it.
And the violence does indeed start to grow out of any reasonable control, as it is not just the partygoers that suffer the blows and beatings, but the house as well. Walls are punched through, windows are broken, furniture is thrown and shattered, leaving no part of the house untouched from the outbreak of youthful rebellion.
Soon, the violence is loud enough for Eddie Valentine to catch ear of, putting an end to his unorthodox sexual intercourse with his fiancee. Running out from his private room, attempting to pull up his pants and properly zip and button them up, the sudden scene of chaos he walks into is one that brings him confusion and horror, not wishing to see his party devolve in the manner that it has.
"Hey, hey, guys! Wait! What's going on-?!" Eddie began to say.
Before Eddie could finish his sentence, a glass had hit him in the back of his head, instantly knocking him unconscious. Falling to the floor, his pants had fallen down as well, leaving his buttocks exposed as the fight continued out through his party, with lubricant continuing to leak from them.
But none of the fighters or those left unconscious are as significant in this brawl as Otto and his own opponent, the ones who started this affair in the first place. In the midst of the chaos, the two still continued to duke out their fight, punching and kicking each other in between the other fights going on around them, throwing whatever nearby objects they could grab at each other.
Soon, Otto managed to tackle his opponent and send him to the ground, leaving him vulnerable for him to attack once again. Grabbing him by the shirt, Otto began punching his enemy in the face repeatedly, drawing blood out from each hit he landed in the man's face.
Each hit dislodges the enemy's brain in its skull, making his consciousness fade in and out with every blow. Blood pours out from his nose and every gash made with Otto's assault, taking away all will to fight once again. Though still alive, he barely qualifies after the work Otto has done, eventually falling totally unconscious.
Having defeated his enemy, Otto stood up victorious, throwing a middle finger to his downed enemy.
"Fuck you, dude!" Otto shouted.
But his victory is cut short as a group of people picking up a table began to charge towards him, carrying the table like a battering ram. Before he was able to see the threat of the incoming table, Otto had already come into contact with it, being knocked back and sent on a collision course with the nearest wall.
[Soundtrack Cue End]
The wall he encountered happened to have a window in it, forcing him through the window as it shattered against his bodily weight, and sending him falling to the grassy ground below. The dirt and grass are enough to make his landing less deadly or damaging, but it still does carry its pain.
Landing flat on his back, Otto does not feel any need or incentive to get back up, instead choosing to lay on the ground after the blow he suffered. A slight groan leaves his lips, with his eyes closing once again to spare himself from the outside world that has brought him to the state he is in now.
Opening them once more, he saw the brawl continue inside the house, watching the violence unfold on those inside. No longer part of the battle, he can see how pointless and senseless it all is, no longer needing to continue. He has had his ounce of flesh, and everything else is ancillary.
So, there is nothing left for him here but to go home.
Picking himself off the ground, he shrugged off the pain and light injuries he accrued, casually starting to walk back to his home. He does not feel a need to wait for Twister, not even considering how he has left his best friend behind, but it does not make a difference if he was with him or not.
Now, all he feels is alone, and there is no one person on Earth that could make him feel otherwise.