It's the Halliburton holiday party!

Through my stream of underground contacts, I procured an invite to the holiday party of the year. Got the invitation delivered by a whey-faced courier with sunglasses and a cloak over his head; for some reason he didn't like being in the daylight. Anyway, the invitation, ivory-inlaid and flowing with ichor (it's always ichor with these guys) directed me to a location where I would receive further instructions. So, it was on with my rented tux, and off to the party!

The location was a Chuck E. Cheese, of course. They're a primary conduit for the evil ley-lines. Don't believe me? Fifty cents for Galaga and Ms. Pac Man? Their idea. And by the way, those aren't costumes.

I went to the service elevator and pressed the basement button twice, then once more, holding the invite to the camera concealed in the mouse face in the control board, and that took me down to the underground level. After that, it's a quick wormhole to the party. Of course, they require a biometric scan at this point, but fortunately, thanks to eBay, I had a vial of former Secretary of the Interior James Watt's vitreous, and that was plenty.

The succubus at the onyx doorway took my invitation and did the usual security check and soul smear. I got past that thanks to a special operation from a part-time surgeon/druid I knew from college days. He also fixed me up with alabaster siguls within my impacted wisdom teeth which provide sufficient protection from evil on this plane. The operation is surprisingly cheap, but it costs another fifty grand to avoid them going through the urethra. I'd rather not talk about that.

Since I didn't have a diamond-studded cumberbund, they gave me a loaner, somewhat dingy, but sparkling with cut diamonds (only conflict diamonds, of course).

So, glistening with ethereal energy and with my soul check in hand, I was off to mingle!

To be continued...