Dec 11, 2004

It's the Halliburton holiday party! (part 2)

Continued from part 1...

Inside the great hall, I was immediately offered a complimentary cohiba, and was invited to light it over the pyre, fueled with oil-covered baby seals rolled in euro notes. I declined. I'm not much of a cigar smoker.

The party was rolling, with the dance floor lit by crystal chandeliers and the occasional vortex of evil. Toby Keith was doing a rockabilly version of Jingle Bells that had my toes a-tappin despite myself. Ann Coulter, drink in hand, was swiveling in paroxysms that recalled the great Elaine Benes. Rumsfeld was in the bag as well, grabbing onto Ron Silver and yelling that tanks blow up, dammit, they do. Cthulhu was holding mistletoe in one of its tentacles, but couldn't find any takers. And I was disappointed to find Mandy Moore there, but I think she was just networking. At any rate, she was uncomfortably fielding off Zell Miller, who was trying to get her to join him in absinthe shooters.

I got myself a Grey Goose and cranberry at the bar and went to the appetizers; I'm a sucker for party food. The blue whale sushi was a little too fresh for my taste, but I couldn't resist the mini-sized passenger pigeon quesadillas. They taste like chicken, for what it's worth.

I sat down to enjoy the show and was joined by a minion who was drinking bone marrow-flavored egg nog. Or it could've been plain egg nog. It had something in it, though, his eyes were half-lidded. Both lobes.

"Man, it was a bitch to get here," he muttered. "The line was halfway down the circle. And everyone was pushing, shoving, and Hitler was babycrying that he wasn't invited, what am I, party planner central?"

"I hear you, my...thing."

"So, how did you get in?"

Fortunately, I had a cover story.

"Oh, I'm a member of a local board of education."

"That got you in?"

"From Texas."

"Oh. How's it going?"

"Great. We're going to get bloodletting into the 2006 editions."

"Excellent! How about geocentrism?"

"Well, we know that's already true, right?"

He liked that one, unfortunately, he choked on his drink and when he spat it out he burned the tablecloth, so I politely took my leave and tried the dance floor. Well, since I dance exactly like Eddie Murphy's imitation of white people except with more self-awareness, this didn't last long.

So, I sat on the sidelines and relaxed. It was an hour until dinner, anyway.

To be continued...