The Party

[subnaut]

((another story parallel to others on this forum. i think it's easy to figure out which.))

There I am, at The End. I stand at the edge of a plank. Below me swirl the energies.

---You want power?---

Want?--I don't want anything. I just want to be left alone; that's all I've ever wanted.

---Answer me, insolent one!---

I want one thing--one thing alone.

---Power! You want power!---

Silence, please. Please, I'm trying to think. I know what I want. I just have to remember.

---You will have power, weak one. Do not toy with me.---

Power?...if thoughts could whimper.

A stray stream of energy whipped up against my back, tearing off my cloak. I snapped forward, my back arched, and slowly blood purled down the rivets of my spine. Another stream came and drove into my shoulder. My heart wrenched. I screamed.

Like some fragile marionette, my limbs went limp, and I collapsed. Corrosive energies tore away my clothes and bits of my flesh with. I couldn't see a thing, couldn't cry--couldn't do anything except draw into myself. Involuntarily, I convulsed, and 7 tears emerged in my flesh from where the lacerations seared. From the tears, energies shot out, making mobius strips encircling me and re-entering. Pain prevents further descrpition.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Fractal!"

...djs can rearrange beats...


"Fractal!"

...arranger anger eat ate debate...

"Wake up, Fractal!"

...deranger beat-dangler...

"That does it, Boy! Get up, get up!"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Smegin' 'ell: REALITY. What sick prick-- ...stop that thought, Wool. Don't talk to yourself. For cryin' outloud, snap out of it.

I splashed some water on my face and thought about the time when I was eager to wake up. I remembered the days when you couldn't PAY me to sleep. That was before...

...before what? -- I tried to pour myself a morning drink, but knocked the bottle over. I ignored the dispersing contents and just got a fresh bottle from the shelf.

As I sipped my way back to normal -- stopped shaking -- chased phosphenes from my retina, I reaquainted myself with my surroundings.

"Greetings, honorable table!"--well, not exactly like that. More like, I tried to remember where the Hell I was. Even though I could only be in one place, the same lonely place I awoke each morning, I never failed to trick myself into forgetting.

BEEP BEEP.
Visitors.
BEEP BEEP.
How do I stop the beeping again?
BEEP BEEP.
Oh, now that's getting a bit annoying!
BEEP BEEP.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was almost to the door, when it opened. Deathscar stood there grinning.

"Oh no, not you," I managed.

"Oh, hey, Wooly. I didn't expect you to be here."

"What the winged hip-thruster do you mean you didn't expect me? You mean, you..."

"Is your mom around?"

"For crying out loud, Death."

"Ah, anyways, gotta run. What time's the party tonight?"

Party?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BEEP BEEP.
O you're frickin' dead, Death!

"Sup slut." It was Armslave.

"Likewise, milch-muffin."

"Same-o-same-o," he said instinctively. and then, as if suddenly realizing why the proverbial heck he had found reason to bug me: "Check it out, dude, I got this *theory*."

"Yeah, ok, I know. If you say 'Cupcake' within 10 milliseconds of killing Prophet Man Mord it spawns a castle made entirely out of sugar."

"No no no no no, dude, listen to me."

"...?"

"Though that is true, though, I swear. And if you eat the entire castle--"

"Arm...I'm not in the mood."

"Eheh. Anyway, here's the theory: I think Phoenixius is a superhero."

"Look at the time. And -- what's this? -- the door. O ****, Arm, I found the door. You've been looking all over for this..."

"I'm serious, bro. Just think hard enough. Notice how Phoe is never around just shooting the ****, but always appears when we need her. And certain other people seem to -disappear- before she arrives. Clark Kent much?"

"Hi, Arm. Bye, Arm." I shut the door behind him and heard stiffled muttering.

BEEP BEEP.
Ok, 30 seconds, Arm.

"By the way, Wool, I need plan 73-C tonight."

"Mmhmm."

"She has to notice me, dude."

I nodded. "I never liked 73-C, you know. It's just not the right kind of notice."

"Hey, ethics, shut the Hell up. The ends justify the means, you drunk cheese."

True enough...True enough.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is the part where I explain what the unhallowed **** is going on and why I seem to think random bits of dialog can give you any insight into "a day in the life of" et-the-hussy-loving-cetera.

It seems (sorry, I'm still waking up) I'm throwing a party today. Furthermore, I am going to call in some favors to make sure Armslave gets noticed by the girl of his dreams. These favors are AT LEAST, BUT NOT LIMITED TO:

Plan 73-C:
In the event that "the client" deems the current object of his affection (henceforth: ELIZA) to be susceptible to jealousy, jaundice, or any other form of envy beginning with letter 'J', 73-A and 73-B become epistimilogically invalid due obvious interest conflicts.
Thus, it becomes necessary to incite ELIZA by adorning the client with various trophies of virility, sex appeal, and what Sea World calls "The Man Dolphin". This shall be done in turn, by:

- Enlarge
- Essence of the Behemoth
- Essence of Jealousy
- and, AT LEAST two beautiful accompanyments to "the engagement".

Finally, not the least of my concerns, Death was hounding after my mother.

I decided to reward my -- not to mention comprehensive -- recap with a drink.

[subnaut]

The thing is, with people, is that they need something from you. Nine times out of ten, this is not you whining to them about your problems. Now, there's a lot of wisdom that gets thrown around, like:
** Listen to others
** Be yourself
** Treat people the way you'd like them to treat you
** Just because a stranger says they know your parents, doesn't mean they do

What it really boils down to, is RESPONSIBILITY. Responsibility is just that, response. We, as beings, have an innate responsbility to respond to each other. To give each other feedback. To -- most importantly -- acknowledge each other's existence.

I once tricked myself into believing the actions I was performing were important because I was noticing them. I said,
_-= Important actions are noticed (consider at its root "import", as in "to import into your perception", which is precisely notice)
_-= I am noticing my actions
_-= My actions are important. Quod erat demonstratum.

What I'm really trying to say is, I just want you to notice that I'm here. I just want you to say "your existence is important". I just want you to say "you are someone worth remembering". I mean, I'd do the same for you.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wow. I slammed the glass back onto the table and let the dry taste kick my throat's ass. Some day, if I miss anything, I'm going to miss this.

Okay, time to get this party started. I need to get some stuff, and quickly. My options were obvious.

Now, when dealing with fixers -- well, people in general, but fixers especially -- it's important to know who you are dealing with.

For example, I could bug Arm. I mean, he owes me for playing matchmaker. I would tell him the substances, decorations, etc that I need. Then he'd bitch about how they were useless RP crap, I'd make fun of his family, and then finally he'd say ok. Then I'd tell him I need it by tonight and he'd tell me it's impossible. End of story.

Now, Redd -- on the other hand -- is a much better option. I swear he must employ an army of tiny thieves to rival a Dicken's novel for the amount of random stuff he has on hand. Either that, or he has developed some secret way of creating items at request. So, I gave him a call:

"Sup, Redd, you busy?"

"Yes."

Crap, someone had got to him before me and now he was already commanding the gnomes to search through his bank for their items. Bah, this boded badly:

"Well, how long is it going to be? It's kind of important and I don't have much time."

"Oh, you're one to talk." (He sounded pissed) "Here I am slaving away trying to get all your weird-ass party requests and you have the nerve to ask me how long it is going to be!"

"You're what?"

"Kazoos, Wooly, Kazoos. Do you really need 213 kazoos?"

"They all have to be different colors. That's important. Don't forget different colors."

"You're hopeless, Wool." (He was laughing at me) "So what was it you needed?"

"Um, well, I was going to ask you get some items for the party, but now I can't find the list..." (Now he was REALLY laughing at me) "What's so funny?"

"Hehe, in the words of Apo: You be ****ed."

"Dammit. Where'd I put that list."

"Just joking, Wooly. I grabbed the list from your place this morning. I thought I'd get a jump start on tracking down all your useless crap before you begged me at the last minute."

"w00t. You're a lifesaver, Redd." (I paused a second). "What a minute, how'd you get in? I just had Remmster install new locks."

(Redd was laughing again) "Just don't tell him I broke in."

So Redd was already getting my supplies. Not much else to be done. Time for another drink.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now, the thing about the day is, it's exceedingly long. I'm not sure whether if faced with an entire unmitigated day, I would survive. Because one day is really not that much different than the next. And if I ever faced a whole day, I would realize this for long enough to not be able to forget it again when I finally went to sleep.

That's sort of chewy. What I mean is, I like my day the way it is. I like the recovery of the morning where I barely realize I'm alive. Part of me is still dreaming. I have no idea I feel the same way I've felt every morning my entire life. I am completely locked into the dimensional pocket known as rising.

Slowly memory awakens. The first thing I realize, is what I'm suppose to do. How utterly useful. It is just about this time that I'm wondering what I should do, and so I'm usually quite happy that this is the very time I remember what it is I should. I perhaps question how I arrive at these conclusions of purpose, but I do not dwell upon it.

As I proceed to do that which I remember I should, my mind begins to wander. I think, "how long have I been doing this" and "how long will I continue to". Rarely -- but often enough -- a timid thought of "is this really something I *should* do" escapes. I begin to worry. If I continue on, for how long, for what goal. Am I enjoying doing this? Or am I doing this so I can do what I enjoy? Do I deserve to enjoy? Is it selfish to do what you enjoy, or is it selfish to enjoy what you do? Should I strive to make others happy? I am told only there lies fulfillment, and yet, if I am making others happy because it makes me happy, am I not just doing it to make me happy and is that not selfishness?

I slam another glass onto the table and wheeze for a second. I need another drink. The thoughts aren't stopping.

And then, abruptly, I am overwhelmed with thought and stop to take a break. I relax. I find people and respond. Because it is people who are truly important, I forget the earlier questions of meaning. Because I am now doing that which I feel matters, I put away thoughts of whether that which I do every day is what I should. And finally I resolve that it is, because it is that which enables me to respond. It is that which affords me my time to do what I find important.

And so I resign to repetition.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Frankeeeeeeee!" I screamed, putting away once more thoughts that could only harm me. "How's the fattest nanomage in the galaxy doing today?"

Frankfurter smiled and waved at me, even though I had obviously already acknowledged his presence.

"You coming to the party tonight, Franky? I'm going to need some of your...charm."

"Heh, Arm talked you into 73-C again?"

"Dammit, yes. Part of me thinks he just likes you charming two beautfiul women to follow him around all night. But he does seem to really like this new girl, and, well...it's Arm, I guess. Kind of fun to watch him fail, if nothing else ;P"

"Ouch, damn. Should call you Harshgatherer. Anyway, I can't make it. I hear that Pneumen is going to be there hawking ES, and you won't catch me anywhere near that guy."

Hmmm...I considered carefully. Which was more important: Armslave having two beautiful women hanging on him all night, or me getting sweet pills from Pneumen.

"Ok, Frank, catch you next time I guess."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When I got back to my place, Redd was already there setting up. "Damn, man, you gotta stop doing that. You break in because you CAN."

"Well, you're very welcome. What terrible karma must I possess to incur such graditude."

"Oh," I paused a bit to notice the decorations and supplies, everything to my specifications, "not too bad, not bad at all. I guess the rest is up to me."

And, sadly, no matter how messed up I ever become, I'll never be able to miss the metaphorical implications of statements like that. I grabbed another drink.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another glass slammed to the table--I vaguely remember me being responsible for it. There's that word again. STOP, Wool, stop. No time for this. Party time. Live, breathe, be the party.

Then it hit me. (Don't worry, nothing tragically important--still trying to solve other people's problems). Reconscious could charm some women for Arm.

"Recon, you /fblocking machine. You coming to the party?"

"Yeah, was planning on coming with Neo. What's up?"

"Razor, razor. O nothing too much. Nothing you can't handle. Nothing...WRONG."

"Mmhmm?"

"Just need you to charm a couple of honeys for Armslave."

"Sure thing, what's the compensation?"

"The...what?"

"You know, rumour has it, the great Woolgatherer makes currency out of favors."

"Yeah, well, apparently rumour sucks ass. Bojimminy, where'd you here that?"

"Around..." (too coy for cute, if you ask me)

"Bah! Fine. I'll give your first child my eternal blessing."

"Eh? You'll what?"

"You know, sanctifying oil and bath of kisses..."

"You'll leave my baby alone, you sick ****!"

"...that didn't come out too well. I mean..."

"I'll go get Arm his women. Now take it easy. Sometimes I'm amazed the stuff that goes through your head."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything was in order. Only a drink later people arrived. I put some music on, took coats, distributed drinks, party favours, and pleasantries.

Everyone had their place. Everyone fit in. And if someone seemed uncomfortable, I could provide escape. In the end, all was right in the world.

And yet, despite this all, something seemed amiss. Maybe it was just me, the days thoughts were still wringing a bit offishly. But, it seemed different.

We, our circle, of friends didn't have to say much. At least not much of substance. We talked, but real messages dug deeper. And something was wrong.

Armslave, had his women, and I even caught a couple jealous glances from his mysetery interest. Check.

The troxes, playing cards, a competiton of who sat stubbornly at the table long enough more than any luck or skill. Check.

Bulg and Dong in the kitchen killing brain cells in a manner that made me eager to join them shortly. But I needed to find out what was wrong first.

Ivy. Bingo. With her time at omni lately, I hadn't seen her for a while before the party. Maybe just weird seeing her again. (Well, old tricks never die).

I dumped a pitcher of beer on my head and rushed up and beer-hugged her before half the pitcher had even dripped off my clothes. "Hi Ivy!"

"What the hell Wooly?"

“You should go try it…it’s fun!” (I tried.) But she just ignored my attempts and went into the kitchen. I stole a drink out of one of Arm's woman's hands and slammed it.

"Easy Wooly," Arm warned. I tossed the empty glass behind me and let it shatter in a back corner: "Piss off, Arm."

I grabbed a couple more drinks and turned the music up. Everything was spinning a little and I was getting warmer. I moved into the main room where some people were dancing. Remmance was busting out some fat moves and I started over to say what's up.

Suddenly I caught site of Ivy again. She had her eyes closed and was licking her lips ecstaticly, like some sort of Corybantic priestess.

"What...the..." I managed, shaking my head, and pounding another drink.

Ivy backed up towards Remmy, and began feeling herself as she did. I tossed Remmance a look of "What-the-****" which he understood immediately. Remm led Ivy away, I knew he would take care of things.

It took a few minutes for things to return to normal, but I lost myself easily once it did. Maybe something was wrong, maybe my uneasiness was justified--but Remmance was good at handling problems.

Me?--I'd forget it in the morning.

[SneakyPax]

( Errmm.. ... what is this all about?... heh, déjà vu.. umm nevermind, guess no one would be able to enlighten me via PM about the meaning in short.. so.. way to go Wool, btw you should definately send a sample of the stuff you're smoking over to my place. .)

[Ivyna2]

*bumps ya up with my story*