Zezaurian AGM party totally fucking lame

It started so well. Mr Morose had "secured a date from the internet," whilst Mr Emotion came along with his entire collection of Cliff Richard albums. Thankfully, Dr Dolorous was given the wrong date and address and Mr Hooray even hired a personality for the night. As is tradition, Professor Peelhead dropped an entire sheet of acid tabs, Mr Ninny invited a bus-load of hotties whilst Monsieur Taxidermy got that Rosie from the chip shop to come. Heck, even Woggle turned up. There was no sign of Miss Wormheart, however, but she was probably too busy purchasing crème & aloe toilet paper to clean her bottom with.

Yes, this was the Zezaurian's Post AGM Party to welcome yet another year of painful existence exciting Zezaurian adventures.

19:34

Mr Morose was getting anxious that his date ("Tyroné") was not going to turn up. "She said she'd be here by seven thirty, the ghastly bitch." I told him to relax and gave him some rum. He took the bottle and sat in the corner muttering to himself as the band arrived - we'd booked The Bum Synonyms, a post-grimecore/rock n' roll outfit from Corby. We paid them with monopoly money our friend Janine had acquired from a chap she knows at Fulham market. They seemed liked a nice bunch of guys, but the lead singer/trumpet player was really edgy and kept flashing his over-long foreskin at the waitresses, which was pretty uncool.

20:02

Professor Peelhead was literally hanging from the ceiling by his toenails and it was only two minutes past eight. He was screaming something about Italian border guards and a glue gun, the crazy bastard. Then Mr Ninny's "bus-load of hotties" arrived. Things were not going quite to plan.

21:34

"She's still not here," Mr Morose was saying over and over again as he downed a second bottle of rum. "It's always the same, Drib Drab; just one crushing disappointment after another." But I had no time for him and his moroseness; Joy De Vivre had arrived and she was alone. Finally, I thought! Finally I'll tell her how I really feel...

21:36

"...And you're ugly, you smell weird...what else? Oh, you think you're funny but you're only funny looking." Joy was now counting these insults out on her fingers. "Hmmm...oh and you have weird chicken legs. And -" Okay, okay, I get the picture, Joy; you're not ready for a steady boyfriend just yet.

21:45

The Bum Synonyms were taking to the stage and the place was packed. Mr Ninny was dancing with all the girls whilst Mr Emotion stood in the corner of the room staring at the wall - but it was okay because Dr Dingleberry had arrived with a bucket O' Zead™ so I was about to get more drunk than I've ever been in my life. George Horses then arrived with his date that he won off eBay, and I was starting to think that maybe this party was going to turn out okay after all.

22:59

"She's here! She's here! Her car ride was delayed because the wheel axle bent or something, but Tyroné is here!"

Where? I kept asking the happiest looking Mr Morose I think I'll ever see.

"There!"

Where?

"look; over there. The one with the bum-bag."

Oh.

11:58

I was watching Mr Morose negotiate a dancing procedure with Tyroné when there was a tap on my thigh. I turned around and looked down. It was Betty. After my disastrous date with her a few months ago, I was sure I'd never have to see her again. How she got an invite is still a mystery, but I suspect that Mr Ninny had something to do with it. She gestured for me to dance with her by nudging her beak against my leg. Heck, I thought, why the hell not? Everyone else was pairing off by this point, and even Peelhead, dribbling with fear under a table to escape "the giant rhino lurking in the car park," was still getting more attention from the ladies than me. I took her flipper-wing and we danced the evening away.

01:15 - 08:12

A total blur/sick buckets/police enquiry/lots of dancing/ruffled feathers

08:57

I woke and looked at the chick next to me. She was sleeping soundly with her little flipper things resting gently on the pillow. I didn't have the heart to wake her, so I got up and went to see what happened to Mr Morose...

The fire brigade took three hours to get that thing off him. Apparently the poor guy had to roll her in flour just to find the wet patch, and then, once he'd located a pocket of skin with which to sexually engage with, Peelhead burst through the door screaming about this bloody rhino in the car park before leaping from the window. Tyroné was so startled that she suffered a massive heart attack. Poor old Mr Morose, he was under that for over eight hours - but I suspect some of us lost our virginity in more horrific ways. At least she made an impression on him.

Almost all of this story is true.

DD.