Auxiliary StoryBurst 1
===============
The Party
===============
Clowns. Eugh.
James had had quite enough of them. But they weren't about to go away, and so he resigned himself to their presence. That didn't mean he would laugh when they made those stupid faces or used a stupid voice. If the kids were enjoying it, though, he supposed all would be well. In the meantime, he needed another drink.
He strolled toward the bar and tried to mask his lack of respect for the "bartender," who looked about fifteen and seemed more familiar with sake bombs and kegstands than with martinis and tactful conversation. He asked for a White Russian and rolled his eyes when the kid consulted a little cheat sheet under the counter. But he got his drink and turned around on the barstool, surveying the room. This party was lame. It was trying to be everything to everyone. The kids' section, the bar, the karaoke, the buffet, the faux-gambling. It just wasn't that exciting. He kinda wished his kids were as bored as he was so he could give in to their pleas to just go home. Usually that's all they ever wanted. But now they were having more fun than ever watching some painted sociopath fold balloons. Figured.
He found himself no longer especially bored, however, when the eastern wall suddenly featured a large hole. The bricks flew inward and dust arose; everyone grew silent and the only sound was the voiceless music of Prince's "Kiss." As the dust cleared, several figures stepped forth through the brand-new entryway. They were wearing army uniforms and carrying rifles. Behind them was a Humvee, its engine growling menacingly. The soldier in front spoke.
"Ladies and gentlemen. Please remain calm. We have received reports that this party is sub-par, and we are here to terminate your boredom... with extreme prejudice."
The soldiers threw their guns to the side and began to gyrate to the music that was now being emitted by the Humvee. Flashing colored lights started up, as well, and the partygoers started to draw closer. Soon, the army uniforms were revealed to be hyper-stylized versions, and began to be systematically removed. The crowd was getting into it, other than a few parents who were ushering their children out of the building in uptight horror.
The lady soldier was down to her camouflage tank top and panties, and James was starting to enjoy himself, when some red and blue lights began to take precedence over the other flashing colored lights. Policemen entered through the hole in the building. One of them reached inside the Humvee and deactivated the music.
For a good time, see paragraph A.
For a silly time, see paragraph B.
-------
A
"This party's over!" he yelled. "You are under arrest for reckless driving, destruction of private property, and causing a nuisance, as well as, uh," looking at the soldier's leader, wearing only a camo g-string, "indecent exposure. Come with me."
The soldier strippers, looking sheepish, were led out of the hole in the wall and off to county jail. The party continued for another few hours, but not even the clowns could entertain the kids anymore, and James finally got to leave. And just as well, for if he drank any more he might not have been able to.
-------
B
"This party's over!" he yelled. "Y'all are under arrest for being way too sexy!"
The policemen and -women each grabbed one of the soldier strippers of the opposite sex and handcuffed their hands behind their backs. The music started up again and they began a surreal replication of normal arrest procedures; the suspects were patted down profusely, and then mock-read their rights as they were being spanked. After a few minutes, the "suspects" engineered an escape and the whole thing turned into a sexy fight scene, with shirts and pants being ripped off. James appreciated that some members of both groups were "defeated" and lay on the ground motionless. But by the end of it, everyone was making out, even the fallen ones, and the crowd was just loving it. The party wound down, and James was eventually able to go home, but he never was quite sure how they engineered that hole in the wall.
==================
Humble Background
==================
It was a job, sure, but it was hardly a career. And it's not like he was the best in the county or even especially more qualified than the average grade-school graduate. But what he had that everyone else lacked was little enough self-respect--and high enough credit card debt--that he was willing to clean bathrooms for eight dollars an hour.
This round was just to replace urinal cakes and make sure nothing problematic had occurred. The next round would be the floor-cleaning, and the next one a quick wipe-down of the counter and toilets. Then he would go home and Bill would take over, which meant Bill had two easy rounds in the middle of the night, but also had the comprehensive one where he had to clean all the surfaces, the mirror, and the floors before foot traffic picked up again in the morning. The administrators were adamant that impeccable hygiene be maintained consistently. And who could blame them? The patients were already sick enough, and this facility didn't provide many private bathrooms. So without frequent clean-up, the lavatories would likely be cesspits of new diseases for the other immune-weakened patients.
Still, there was probably no need to replace the urinal cakes so often. The things were pretty weird, and he never really got comfortable removing the old ones, even with gloves. But hell, things could be worse.
His cell phone rang and he examined the screen before answering it. It was a private number. He answered and was greeted by a recorded woman's voice informing him of the great new deals his cable company was offering. He cut the call short and went about his business feeling mildly superior until he realized that he kind of preferred the recorded voice to the silence.
It was then that he decided he needed a change. He needed to make something of his life, pay down his debt and get move out of his mother's house, and maybe find a goddamn girlfriend. He needed a job that didn't require many qualifications but which would pay well. Another job, like this one, that not many people wanted to deal with, but one, unlike this one, that elicited at least a little respect. He checked his watch; yep, he was at least thirty years old.
It was time for Dick Durbin to run for the United States Senate.