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eerieindianaThe Party Fowl Cometh...
Stanley Binkerman's parents were out of town for the weekend, and the houseparty wasn't going quite as well as he'd hoped. He was pretty sure he could think of an explanation for the tequila that had filled the hot tub; he just wasn't certain how he could explain the hot tub itself.
The clock struck one. Over the pounding music and the raised voices, there was a small clap of thunder, a sound like claws scrabbling in hard dirt and then the door to the living room exploded off it's hinges to the sound of dramatic guitar chords.
Like the iconic Kool-Aid man, the Party Fowl strode into the room, except instead of bringing refreshing fruit punch, he brought cringing and the acute, burning sensation of second-hand embarrassment. A giant chicken whose comb brushed the ceiling, leaving a sticky smear of coagulated AX bodyspray on the white paint, the Party Fowl wore shades indoors, at night, and as he entered, he did a Fonzi-esque two-handed finger point at three teenage girls sipping beers on the sofa. He squawked his appreciation. They gave him a disgusted glance, and left through the empty doorframe.
Stanley put his head in his hands.
Stanley Binkerman's parents were out of town for the weekend, and the houseparty wasn't going quite as well as he'd hoped. He was pretty sure he could think of an explanation for the tequila that had filled the hot tub; he just wasn't certain how he could explain the hot tub itself.
The clock struck one. Over the pounding music and the raised voices, there was a small clap of thunder, a sound like claws scrabbling in hard dirt and then the door to the living room exploded off it's hinges to the sound of dramatic guitar chords.
Like the iconic Kool-Aid man, the Party Fowl strode into the room, except instead of bringing refreshing fruit punch, he brought cringing and the acute, burning sensation of second-hand embarrassment. A giant chicken whose comb brushed the ceiling, leaving a sticky smear of coagulated AX bodyspray on the white paint, the Party Fowl wore shades indoors, at night, and as he entered, he did a Fonzi-esque two-handed finger point at three teenage girls sipping beers on the sofa. He squawked his appreciation. They gave him a disgusted glance, and left through the empty doorframe.
Stanley put his head in his hands.
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Date: 2015-10-15 12:07 pm (UTC)LOL OMFG. So like. throw a party get a hot tub? should I try this? or is it inadvisable? With my luck I'll get the party fowl.
poor Stanley. he's like "well, this actually managed to get worse."
no subject
Date: 2015-10-15 12:21 pm (UTC)poor sad stanley. im headcanoning him as the guy that all the warning stories are about. like,do.t drink soda and eat.pop rocks or yojr stomach EXPLODES just.like stanley binkermans did
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Date: 2015-10-15 02:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-10-15 02:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-10-15 02:09 pm (UTC)