by Flicko


A cool, jazzy music played in the background. Women danced around the room, skirts flying. Drinks were for free that day. A strange-looking guy walked in on the party. Everyone stopped and stared at him. He smiled devilishly, lowered his sunglasses and stared back at them. The party continued.

A female singer was now on stage, singing in such a high-pitched voice that the glasses were breaking. Understandably, she was booed off stage. In her place came a sweet-looking girl who sung a dreamy lullaby. The whole room was now slow dancing. Her eyes sparked as she sang the beautiful song. The strange guy looked at her. When their eyes met, she screamed.


She dropped the mike, jumped off stage and ran to him. He hugged her so close and for so long he could feel her body move as she was breathing.

"Helena," he said breathlessly, "I missed you so much." A glowing smile on her face was his only answer.

Helena held his hand and took him to the dance floor. As crazy techno music was now played, the laser lights moving across the room with everyone dancing. After a few minutes of dancing, it was stopped by the harsh noise of a man tapping a glass to call for silence. The man, named Elroy Peabody, was middle-aged and so formally dressed that he looked very out-of-place at such an informal party.

"Attention, everyone," he said when the room was quiet. Even the music had stopped. "I'd like to propose a toast to my son Harold Peabody and his new fiancée Ursula Parker!"

"Hear, hear!" the room bellowed in response as they raised their glasses. Although Helena did so out of politeness, Johnny did not.

"Stupid egotist," Johnny muttered as the music started up again. "Peabody's thinks he's so great getting his son to marry into the Parker family." The Parkers were a very wealthy family that owned what seemed to be half of the city.

"Well, you still should've been polite," Helena told him in half-mocking tone.

"Yeah, I should've," Johnny agreed darkly. Helena decided not to argue the point any further. Frankly, she agreed with Johnny's sentiment. Harold Peabody was as bad as his father and Ursula Parker practically defined the word "bitch."

"Johnny," she said suddenly, "do you think we should get married?" Johnny stopped dancing. This was a question he had been fearing she would bring up a long time.

Johnny sighed with a heavy darkness. The weight of the world came crashing down on his shoulders, and he was no Atlas. With a painful strain in his eyes, he pierced her glance as he looked up from the ground. "We need to talk. I need a drink."

Johnny led the way toward the crystal shimmering bar. The bar was aglow with the idle chatter of empty-headed sycophants. Johnny ran his shivering fingers through his slick wet hair.

"The usual, Johnny?" Sam, the bartender, asked with empathy.

Johnny kept his eyes glued to the counter in quiet melancholy as he nodded to his long-time acquaintance.

"Coming right up, Johnny," Sam said compassionately. A few moments later, Sam returned from the backroom with a silvery stand. On it hung a bag filled with clear liquid. Vodka maybe? Helena looked on with much curiosity.

Sam then came out from behind the bar with the strange stand. Helena observed with perplexity as Sam approached Johnny. To Helena's utter befuddlement, Johnny then dropped his drawers exposing his hairy buttocks. Johnny then bent over the counter, as Sam, with a practiced motion, swiftly inserted the long tube of the enema bag into Johnny's rectum. "Squeeze the bag. Squeeze it again, Sam."

Helena retreated in horror and shrieked loudly. When the other patrons heard Helena's cry, everyone's attention was immediately drawn to the proctological scene taking place at the counter. A frantic patron suddenly pulled the fire alarm. Chaos ensued.

Seemingly oblivious to the commotion around them, all of the establishment's service staff quickly made their way to Johnny and Sam and started chanting ritualistically. Most of them hated this part of the job, and thus the song was quickly fired off in a monotone...

"Blue Day! Blue Day! Go away! Come back some other day! One squeeze for the blue! One squeeze for the day! Hey! Hey! You're not gay! There simply is no other way! You just ordered a... 'Once in a Blue Day'! Yay!!"

Once the chant was over, the fake smiles of the service staff immediately vanished as they returned to work. As they attempted their way back to their tables, hordes of frantically screaming patrons trampled most of them in their mad dash toward the exits. Draped tablecloths burst into flames from abandoned cigarettes and overturned drinks. A woman was pushed to the floor, feet trampling her abdomen as she exclaimed "Oh! My unborn child!".

At the east exit there was a bouncer named Spike (who's parents had hastily named Tina). After years of pentup aggression and questions in regards to his masculinity, Spike was brooding with animosity towards the human race in general. He was quietly fondling his pearl-handed silver name-embossed .45. As the crowd burst through the doors, he seized his opportunity and pressed his way through the oncoming crowd. Once steeped in the chaos, he pulled out his firearm and started shooting at random.

The ballroom now sufficiently filled with smoke, the fire alarm sprinklers engaged. The water quickly short-circuited the DJ's now abandoned equipment, bouncing a surge to the city power plant's main breakers plunging all of Los Angeles into yet another brownout.

Blissfully ignorant of the commotion around him, Johnny contemplated every nuance of the prospect of his future life with Helena. He came to a startling conclusion, even for him.

"Helena, the answer is 'Yes'. I'll marry you." Just then the lights went out... "Helena?"


"I've never been so embarrassed in my life!" Helena told Johnny later. This was quite unlike Helena, who was usually very sweet and soft-spoken.

"But I agreed to marry you!" Johnny protested. "I thought that was what you always wanted."

"What I wanted was a husband that I could understand!" Helena protested. "One that I knew wouldn't be hitting bars on the way home or having an affair with another woman."

"But you know I would never do anything like that," Johnny replied.

"After what happened..." Helena began, but stopped. She apparently couldn't bring herself to describe what had happened. "Well, I-I've come to realize that I...I don't know you at all!"

"It was just an enema," Johnny protested. "Besides, we can still get married."

"The hell we can!" Helena shouted. Johnny stared at her.

"You've wanted me to say I'll marry you for over a year and, now that I've said yes, you don't want to get married anymore?" Johnny asked in amazement.

"That's right!" Helena shouted. "Because you aren't the same Johnny Macfield that I wanted to marry. You're a different Johnny Macfield that-that likes emb-b-barrassing me by having enmas in front of everyone!"

"Enemas," Johnny corrected. Helena ignored the correction

"I don't like you!" Helena shouted, tears running down her face. "And if I do get married, it won't be to you!" With that, she marched out of the room in a huff and slammed the door.

"If I can't have her," Johnny said to himself, "nobody will."

Dunt dunt, dunt dunt da duuuu!!!

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