You go and stand by Sue with your cocktail in hand. It's crowded. Everyone is chilling and having a good time. People are coming and going and socializing and talking. Everyone is checking out someone who is checking out someone else who is checking out someone else. You wait five minutes and try Natasha on her cell again, but this time all you're getting is her answering machine. You down the rest of the cocktail and quickly order another. You stare up at Sue. She's one giant T-Rex and why is it that the look on her face is starting to resemble a smirk. People are laughing and chatting, so where are your people, you wonder? This is getting irritating and you're no longer amused. You wait 15 more minutes. You look around hoping to see someone you know, anyone, but you don't recognize a soul.
You order a third cocktail and still no Natasha! Now you are pacing around the gargantuan dinosaur feeling as ancient as she is. At one point, a waiter comes up to you and asks you if you'd like a hors d'oeuvre. You wave the waiter away and start stumbling around. You decide you need to sit down because you've downed three cocktails too quickly, but as you start to wobble you collide with Sue completely crashing into her and bringing the gargantuan dinosaur to the ground. The musicians stop playing. Everyone is silent and staring at you. You try to stand up. The rest of the evening is a total blur, but when you wake up the next morning, hung over in your jail cell you faintly recall an angry museum curator screaming at you with security guards by his side. You seem to recall hundreds of shocked faces and bizarre stares and you even vaguely can make out the face of Natasha standing in the center of the room with her hand covering her face. At one point did the police arrive? You don't remember. All you can do now is hang your head low and contemplate your notorious future in the city of Chicago as the Steve Bartman of 2004. THE END |
