Thank You For Inviting Me and My Stupid Mouth

I’m sorry, what was that again?

No, you are right, of course, if what you’re suggesting is that I’m still not paying attention.

[First of the night.]

Oh yes, have another gulp of wine if you think it will save you, or make your reflection look six shades closer to that “in my thirties” you’ve been spreading around all evening.

Yes, I certainly will. And when you finally think up a good joke you come along and find me.

Hmm? No I prefer food, thank you.

Heels? Do I have a death wish?

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest that heels are for the stupid..

My dear, you’re hobbling like a bowlegged Mr. Tumnus heading northwards. I only hope your endeavors in the near-future don’t involve running, walking, standing, or thinking.

Oh, yes! I’ll have some more of that turd-looking pastry—bring it here! No, no, just piled it in my hand there, thank you. What was that?

Thoughts on income inequality? Well, let’s start with how much is that suit you’re currently wearing?

[Whoa now.]

Mm? Oh, I don’t indulge in gossip, miss, I investigate in it.

What? Oh no I bought this at JC Penny. It was on sale!

Nevermind it, I’m sure you wouldn’t have been able to explain it to me anyways.

[Here we go.]

Excuse me for interrupting but are you wearing a wig? No-no! No it looks completely natural! You know my grandfather wore one that looked precisely like that!

Should a man not enjoy his riches? Well, I don’t know, a dog perfectly enjoys his own shit.

My fine woman, I don’t believe we have met. Though I suppose it’s possible we have met, as you look an awfully lot like every other woman I’ve met tonight!

Christ Almighty, I have to take a piss. Where’s the bathroom? …Do I want you to come with me? What am I, four years old?

I’m sorry to bring this to your attention, but, I do believe you’re pronouncing it wrong. Oh? Oh I see. I’m sorry I was unaware we were all pretending to be French.

This is a fine library! What was that? Kindles? … Well, there’s not much I can say for that, but I guess I’d always thought books were meant for reading rather than displaying. Call me old-fashioned, I suppose.

Yale?

Oxford?

Princeton?

What? Oh no, I just come from, you know, my mother’s vagina.

Mm? Ha! That painting looks like a dog vomited on a canvas and then rolled around in it – it’s… Well perhaps heartily vomited I — who? … HOW MUCH?

Yes, I think I’ll be on my way out now. I had a wonderful time! So many characters here! And I delighted in meeting them all!

Hmm? Oh no I don’t have anywhere to be. Have a fabulous night! Until we meet again!

[And no one even cried.]

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