Hello. My name is Alastair Quenten Stomach, but feel free to call me Alastair. I'm here to tell you about my uncomfortable night last night. It was caused by a few guests that I invited over for a quiet dinner party that slowly turned into cacophonic chaos. Let me begin.
I am a member of a very exclusive neighborhood meant for only the most prestigious men and women. Some of my neighbors are Mr. and Mrs. Eye, quite the beautiful couple, Ms. Mouth, a most elligible bachelorette and rather stunning, if I do say so myself. There are also Mr. Esophagus, Mr. and Mrs. Lung (an Oriental couple), Ms. Pancreas and Mr. Gallbladder (they live together, though they are not married. I do not approve, but who am I to judge others?), and Monsieur Coeur (A rather pompous fellow, as he has not a bit of French in him. His surname is truly Heart.) A long way off, down a very long drive, lives Mr. Brain, who is incredibly intelligent, yet also extremely eccentric.
Last night, I decided to throw a dinner party. It was high time; quite a while had gone by without one. However, after many of my neighbors declined my invitations, citing highly unlikely reasons, I was forced to resort to outsiders, however uncouth that may be. After all, Ms. Mouth had many a visitor, which she would then send down the street to me. (I live two houses away from her, just on the other side of Mr. Esophagus.) Because of my general lack of knowledge of outsiders, besides those I had met through Ms. Mouth, I decided to ask her who would be the best to invite. I rang her up on the telephone to hear her suggestions.
"Oh, Mr. Stomach, I have just the perfect people! I have these guests over currently that would be marvelous guests at your party! I was just beginning to worry, for I need to go to bed soon and would have had to send them home. I'll send them over now. Your timing is impeccable as always, Alastair. You're such a darling!"
Blushing from her praises (After all, the adorations of a young beauty are nothing to dismiss lightly.), I gave the final instructions to my servants, then poured a cup of coffee and waited in the parlor for my guests to arrive. Presently, I heard the doorbell ring. Setting my coffee down to await my quick return, I went to the door where the guests were being led in. My surprise when I saw these guests must have been palpable; this was not at all what I expected of Ms. Mouth. The first guests to enter were what must have been an entire extended family. Their name was Gardetto, and I learned that they were all brothers and sisters and all about the same age. I felt sorry for their poor parents. The second set of guests were a pair of twins, they must have been, for they not only had the same surname but looked alike. It was difficult telling them apart.
Upon relieving them of their coats, I ushered them all into the parlor. There were quite a few more than I expected, so I instructed a servant to adjust to the current number. Then I sat down to get a better estimation of my guests. The Gardettos were an exceedingly seedy and unkempt bunch, and none of them seemed to be particularly interested in personal hygeine. They all looked rather...greasy, almost to the point of my not wanting them to be on the furniture. I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt, and focused on the twins. Their name was Pepsi. On the outside, they looked much more refined and polished, and certainly they valued their outside appearance. I was much more inclined to enjoy their presence. Until they began speaking. While their outward appearance was overall impressive, I soon learned that it was merely a facade. Their true manner was quite boorish and crass. I was beginning to think that this dinner party was a bad idea. However, that would be a bad show of decorum and hospitality, so I decided to stick it out. Moments later, it was announced that dinner was served.
If my guests' behavior was less than exemplary before, now it was downright horrid. They seemed not to know any etiquette or have any manners at all. It was a complete free for all, and I was lucky to get any food out of it. The Gardettos piled their plates so full that the food was spilling off! One of them even spilled his wine (a 1996 Chateau Lafite Rothschild Pauillac that I had spent a small fortune on) all over my brand new double-breasted dinner blazer (the one I had ordered specially from Italy). I was beginning to lose my temper. Not only were they messy and rude, but they were also loud. Very loud. They were beginning to shout and scream. (Apparently they were not used to wine, as they all seemed to be completely inebriated.) I developed a rather extreme headache. I told all these impossible guests that they needed to needed to leave my house immediately, but they refused. Then the calls from my neighbors began.
First was Mr. Esophagus, complaining about the noise. Then Ms. Pancreas and Mr. Gallbladder. Then Monsieur Coeur. Slowly, one by one, my neighbors were calling me, all to tell me to contain my guests jovialness to a dim roar. The last straw was when Mr. Brain called. Apparently even he, down his impossibly long road, could hear the jocularity of my guests. Finally, the police arrived.
Officer Chuck (His full name was Officer Up Chuck, but he preferred just Chuck.) came to my door. As I opened it, I was nearly sobbing from frustration. This was not the quiet dinner party I had planned! I was so grateful to see Chuck.
"Everybody quiet down NOW!" He had a rather commanding voice when he tried. This was why he was the police officer. Finally, my guests refrained from screaming. My aching head was immediately grateful. I sat down in the parlor, leaving everything to my very capable friend.
"My name is Officer Chuck, and it's become apparent that Mr. Stomach doesn't want you here any more. Everybody, out front now!"
"But we don't want to leave," said one of the Gardetto brothers.
"Yeah, thish guy hash shome good shtuff *hiccup* here." Apparently one of Pespi twins had drank more than he could handle.
"So, you've been drinking too? How many of you are truly of age?" All the protests on leaving immediately stopped. "I thought so," Officer Chuck said, "I'm gonna need to see all of your ID's."
They all reached into their pockets or purses and pulled ID's out of wallets. They seemed extremely reluctant to hand them over to Officer Chuck, and a few even tried resisting, but Chuck had his way eventually. He's extremely persuasive when he wants to be. Once he received all the ID's, he went back out to his car to run them all through the police system.
As soon as he was out the door, one of the Pepsi twins asked, "Did anyone else give him a fake ID?" At that, every single one of my ex-dinner guests rushed out the back door. To be honest, I didn't care at that point that they had lied to Officer Chuck, I was just relieved that they were gone. It was unfortunate that my headache did not leave as readily as they.
After roughly 5 minutes, Chuck came back in, wanting to know where they had all gone. I told them that as soon as he had left, they had all run away. "Well, that's too bad. I could've put the lot of them in jail for underage drinking, noise pollution, and trespassing, seeing as you didn't want them here at that point."
"It's okay, Chuck. Frankly, I'm just glad they've gone."
"I know what you mean, Alastair." He hitched his pants back up to the appropriate height and said goodbye, understanding that I needed time alone. I thanked him, showed him to the door, and then went upstairs, leaving the clean up to my servants.
As I changed into my purple silk robe (imported all the way from China), I reflected on this night. Never, ever again would I do something so incredibly imbecilic as to invite anyone other than my upper class neighbors to my house. When I lay down, my headache was finally down. As I drifted off into sleep, I noticed through my window that all my neighbors' lights once again went out. Ms. Mouth's first, then Ms. Pancreas and Mr. Gallbladder, Monsieur Coeur, Mr. Esophagus, then finally, the last one to turn out his light was Mr. Brain. And then the night was quiet and peaceful once more.
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