Memoir from inside the bathroom at a party.

 Alright, this is a memoir from inside the bathroom.

I arrived sometime between seven pm and 2am. I was very excited to have recieved an invitation to the most exclusive party ever thrown on the planet.

The Puerto Rican hooker I brought along was very chatty after vacuuming a pile of crank in the back of the limousine. I did enjoy her company, and the exotic flavor of her voice for a time. Although that fondness quickly dissipated after we had arrived. 

We cranked one out inside the hall closet, and I told her she had to stay in there for 30 minutes after I left, or I would refund the venmo payment. And call in a bomb threat to her hotel room. For some reason, the look of alarm on her face, and the satisfaction of smearing my spank on someone's four thousand dollar Armani suit. Made her exhorbant price well worth it. I moved quickly, living the scene of my obscenity, and into a far greater travesty. 

I left the hallway and ran into a drunk woman a few feet from the circus I had just left behind inside the closet. Her hair was frizzy and unkempt. The color of rust. She was vaguely overwieght with a nasally voice. Which is ironic, seeing the faint trickle of blood trailing from her nostrils. Late stage alcoholism, judging by the color and swelling in her eyes.

-A fleeting thought after I entered the first room to my right and realized it was an impromptu heroin den. A shapely brunette woman shoulder checked me and swiped her hand across my crotch. Just as I crossed the thresh hold of the door and started to take in my surroundings. "Oi Noice rod there cunt, wanna have a go wif moine?" She said, handing me a syringe. I stood there wondering why she was speaking in a cockney accent. What I had gotten myself into, and what I was going to do about the full on rager, this strange woman had just- so gracefully given me. So I spiked my dick with the syringe full of china white and fell into the couch in bliss. Like any well adjusted person would do.

By this point I'd already crossed many lines. And I will have continued to cross them as the night thundered on. Which brings us to the next taste of pandemonium I experienced that night. It was a herculean effort to pull myself out of the perfect ecstasy I'd just found, and remove myself from the sofa. But alas, I would not have this story had I not done just that. What I'd find next would be even better. 

I left the opium den in a stupor, and found myself craving a drink. So I went off in the direction of the atrium and landed right into a George A. Romero film. There was an ocean of flesh and hedonism all around me. Luckily the haze from the heroin buzz spared my nerves, and allowed me to continue unflustered. I'd seen enough scantily clad women and groups of wanton need for nose candy in my time. For those things to slip through my consciousness like the instinctual need for water, or the sight of a McDonalds gas station combo. Off of a highway somewhere in the midwest.

Which smoothly brings us to our next observation. The three massive characters; across the sea of lust. Comfortably lording over the kitchen, and a group of fatherless women. Naturally I was curious why a 10 foot tall man, clad in OD green titanium Armor and a crusader knight were there forcing booze into their gullets. But, alas I could not judge anyone too heavily after taking part in some very questionable things just before. 

I am judging the dude in the sasquatch costume heavily however. The first thing I noticed after power-groping my way through the daddy issues convention that had set up shop. Was the noxious stench permeating from the beast. He was also very rude. He kept replying curtly to everything I said with what I took as sarcastic remarks in ancient Greek or something.

The United Nations Space Command officer and Pollock knight were pretty cool however. It became easier to deal with the soldier's soundboard-like conversational skills, and the knight's incessant need to change light bulbs. After a few dirty martini's, and some electrifying looks from the women around us. The atmosphere had taken on a playful glow to it when the wretched beast, and noisy show off opened up in performance. I'm not sure how, but the ape was juggling olives. Seemingly with telepathy. But that sounds ridiculous. The knight had drawn his sword, and gracefully with assembly line-like calmness started cutting the olives in midair. It all fell apart after he beer bonged a four loko and decapitated the very nice ice sculpture that was present.

The opium buzz began to fade, and I quickly felt the urge to cut short the conversation I was engrossed in. Albeit she was a very lovely woman and her enthusiasm for cosmetology was very interesting. As was the lingerie I could plainly see through her blouse. But alas, I needed to powder my nose and have a cigarette. So I slipped through an exterior door and into a garage full of finely built cars. And into a fray I felt very comfortable operating in. 

A flood of relief came over me when I closed the door behind me. I'm not sure if it was the familiar energy of the room. Which I had not yet realized. Or if it was the sudden plunge into low conversation in my native tongue, and out of the chaos outside.

I heard a commotion to my left, and an argument ensuing through the thin walls of an out building inside the garage. The tongue of those wretched off off world immigrant prawns, and what sounded like 2 human men. 

"should I go in there and intervene, or return to my female company?" I thought aloud as the cocaine spoon moved past my upper lip, and the decision was made. I drew my .45 caliber Czechloslovakian handgun from it's shoulder holster. I snubbed my cigarette on the windshield of some exotic car. Took a few steps forward and booted the door. I drew a bead on the prawn closest to my right. Hovering over a man that was in shock uttering divinities. I squeezed the trigger.

Muscle memory and training took over instantly. Before my mind had registered it as a kill shot. Based on the explosion of teal fluids that came to rest on the floor the same instant my body did. I had dropped down to the floor and braced for the plasma burst six feet to the right of where I'd just been standing. A nasty prawn had an XE-107 discharge rifle fixed on the other human in the room. It's a technique the violent bastards use during negotiation. They are not very intelligent creatures, but they are smart enough to know most people would rather not take a burst of plasma in the chest if things go south. Which is precisely what happened.

Before my upper body hit the ground and threw off my aim. I took a bead on #2 out of the three prawns. The first shot slammed into the rifle. It hadn't been effective as I would have preferred, but it saved the man's life whom he'd had the rifle fixed on. The second slug entered the area where the crotch on a human would be, and the third entered his neck. Just as his abhorrent and toxic blood began to spray from the neck wound.

I twisted my body to my direct left, took a bead on the final combatant and squeezed the 4lb hair trigger I had installed on my piece a few months prior. All six shots in my gun left in quick succession, and with the deliberate calmness of a professional. I got to my feet, checking my surroundings.

Smoke from the plasma burst was billowing up from the bowling ball sized gorge that it had left in the wall. The praying man from earlier had snapped out of his stupor and got to action saving his friend. He slovenly dropped his gun, it clattering to a stop just outside the border of his friends growing pool of blood. 

"hes not all there yet" I thought to myself as I approached them. I picked up his gun and secured it against the small of my back. The wounded man was unconscious. His partner had not cinched his make-shift tourniquet hard enough and Johnny boy here was losing a lot of blood. I handed the oaf my flask and a vial of cocaine in hopes it would help him snap out of it. I told him to indulge while I fixed his friend. About this time a miracle in disguise walked in the door.

Just the same moment I'd wished I had some medical supplies. The rust haired woman and the Puerto Rican escort barged in the door. The lady of the night whom fancied herself my new girlfriend at some point, I imagine. Reared back and threw her drink in my face. Screaming in my face that I'm a pig before running past the other woman and out the door crying. Completely disregarding the horror movie scene she'd just burst into. 

Her flailing exit must have cut through the drunk woman's haze of blissful ignorance, and woke up her deep rooted alcoholic aggression. Because she took a swing at nothing, a few seconds after her friend left in an emotional daze. She fell, spilling the contents of her pillow case all over the floor. 

Bottles of liquor, and toothbrushes lie all around the woman and pillow case like a thanks giving cornucopia full of disgusting food. I got to work immediately realizing this troubled woman had just brought me what I needed to make sterile bandages for the dying man. 

The third prawn from earlier made a start and went for his weapon. In one fluid movement I pulled my gun from it's holster placing 2 shots center mass, and 1 eviscerating his head, leaving a grotesque mass of white flesh and teal fluids. The noise from the gunshots must have pulled our boy Johnny from his slumber. 

He woke up very pissed off. Instinctually going for his nickel plated 1911. Firmly secured in a 3 O' clock holster. Somewhere beneath the jungle of his clothing. 

"What are you doing government man?" He asked me through pained breaths.

"And where is my arm?"

"Put your gun away and I will tell you everything my friend."

I gave him a quick rundown about what transpired shortly after his negotiation went south, and decided to leave before somebody in charge stumbled upon the carnage. Making a last minute decision to grab a very expensive bottle of German schnapps lying on the ground. I tried to find the woman I'd made friends with earlier before leaving, having no success I stopped in the bath room on my way out and scribbled down the events of this night, before typing out this memoir at home.