6 of 26

Write now Article Tools

No one loves parties more than I do. I throw a lot of parties, so I am invited to many. I really enjoy upscale parties where the people dress, but there aren't many of those, so it's a special treat. Most people's parties are more casual and the food is awful, but there is plenty of alcohol, since they are usually B.Y.O.B. I hate B.Y.O.B. parties and never throw one.

The other thing I hate is where you are expected to bring something, or even worsepotluck, where you are expected to bring something specifically assigned. "Bring a casserole," I'm told. I don't do casseroles, and definitely don't like transporting casseroles in my car. I'll be wearing some of it by the time I get there, usually, but I do as I'm asked.

"What should I bring?" people ask, when I invite them to dinner parties.

"An appetite and a date," I answer.

"Are you sure? I could make a dessert," they say.

"I'm making a Reese's peanut butter cup cake," I'll say.

"Cup cakes?"

"No, a cake that is styled after a Reese's peanut butter cup, with chocolate and peanut butter cheese cake filling in a chocolate cake with peanut butter and caramel icing."

"Oh ..."

Inevitably, someone will show up with something that they made to contribute to the dinner, which doesn't fit into the menu and needs to go into the oven for about an hour before serving. It's their special broccoli and cauliflower casserole that their mother gave them the recipes and they love to share it with their friends and it is just the easiest thing to make with cream of mushroom soup and a little . I serve it, after finding room in the oven, with caviar, escargot, smoked wild salmon, crab cakes, wild mushroom consume, Beef Wellington, creamed sweet potatoes, truffles, you get the picture. On the table with my finest china and polished silver is this casserole in their mother's orange casserole dish.

I'm now in a suit, with shined shoes and carrying a dish with baked beans, I was told to bring to the party, and as I'm loading it into the car, it spills just enough onto the carpet to need the upholstery shampooed tomorrow. I arrive and am getting the baked beans out of the car when their German Shepherd is so excited to see me, he jumps on me and the beans spill on my shined shoes.

Everyone is gathered in the kitchen and the bottles of booze are covering their cabinets so I can't find anywhere to set the beans down. Someone bumps my arm and the beans slosh a bit of juice onto the floor, where someone inevitable steps in it before I can find a paper towel to clean up the mess.

Now, why was it I liked parties? Oh, yeah, it was fun. I remember, now.

Learn more about this author, Will Kester.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Short stories: Going to a party?
We want to hear your view. Write now!