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Daniel attempted to smile at the group of young children seated before him on confetti-strewn carpet. This was his fifth Birthday party gig this week, and each had been a disaster.
He crossed his fingers and prayed that Mr. Sockforahead could keep it together this time.
Just this once.
“Hello, Mr. Sockforahead, what do you have to say to all the little kiddies today?” he said to a sock-puppet draped over his right hand.
“Fuck you, kids!” was Mr. Sockforahead’s jolly reply.
Daniel looked as shocked as the parents at the back of the room. This was not a good start. The kids laughed, so Daniel tried to save face before someone hurled him bodily from the house.
“Uh, Mr. Sockforahead, that wasn’t very nice. We’re here to entertain the children.”
“They’re having fun,” said Mr. Sockforahead. “And if they aren’t, well I don’t give a shit!”
There were more silent stares from the parents.
Someone choked on their punch.
“Mr. Sockforahead, behave yourself.”
“And what if I don’t? What if I blow raspberries at everyone in the room? Thspsppppp!”
The kids laughed again, and the parents seemed to drop their defenses. But that was just the fuel Mr. Sockforahead needed for another outburst.
“What if I mooned them all, huh?” Mr. Sockforahead hoisted his sock up and bared the back of Daniel’s hand to the crowd. “And what if I pulled down my pants and pissed all over the audience?”
That was it.
“God dammit, Mr. Sockforahead!”
Daniel ripped the sock from his hand and throttled it.
R.I.P.
