The Party Never Stops

“You're not laughing…” he says expectantly, like I’ll suddenly reconsider and explode in a fit of giggles.

“That's because it's not funny.”

“Oh come on. It's just a joke.”

“Our 20 year friendship?”

“Don't say that. 'Bit of fun is all. You should really lighten up.”

“Oh. Ok. I hear a positive attitude makes betrayals a 5 star life experience…"

“Hardly a betrayal.” He’d know, after all. The silence is ugly. Need something to break it, and fast.

“...Give me your mask.”

“No!”

“Give it. I'm not going in there without it.”

“And ruin my outfit? Don't think so, took me weeks to perfect the cowl.”

“... Lighten up” I taunt with a deliberate smirk that he no doubt resents, “it's just a bit of duct taped plastic. It's simple really, hand over the mask or I walk. No way you get me through those doors without it. You'll just be... Commander Laser unmasked!”

“It's Quasar! Commander Quasar goddamnit.”

“Yay for brand identity? People'll know. Even without the helmet.”

“Cowl of Ka-Tharn…"

“I'll be sure to mention that. Perfect icebreaker.” Sometimes I forget he’s a complete and utter nerd.

“Fine. Everyone better not think this is a couple's costume or something.”

“Because that'd be the worst thing that happens tonight... So. What kind of party is this, anyway?”

The cold is harsh, enough to make you jump from side to side.

“Name?” The doorman hovers.

“Johnson. Andy. And guest.”

“Guest? How mysterious…” I smile. Wonder why they call them bouncers. He certainly wouldn’t. This guy looks inhumanly solid, like an assured sinker. Thin gaze studies me, up and down. Is he jealous? Hard not to be… Ripped blue jeans, white t shirt edging closer to yellow, food stains like Pollock.

“Commander Quasar would never dress so casually.” Audible disdain.

“I really. Really don't care.”

“I can tell you're gonna be the life of the party.” Didn’t ask, big guy. Of course I don’t say that, but I think it. Bigger man, just not literally. Fists of fury remain holstered for global peace.

“Thanks. I'll be sure to let my mom and dad know. Finally, a reason to be proud.” Andy has to practically pull me past the big guy. Do they all go to the same plus size store? ‘BIG AND TOUGH AND BREATHABLE’! We linger at the edge of the party, some fringe corridor secluded in shadowed grime. You can hear the heavy bass and the sweaty bodies through the wall.

“Less of the sarcasm. Not everyone knows the unique displeasure of your company. Maintain the illusion.”

“I'm fun. Don't I look fun? Casual Quasar baby, dress down intergalactic chic.”

“You know how to talk to people right? Because... It kinda seems like you've forgot?"

“Generic greeting, make small talk, bond over shared experience, invite to my death cult.”

“…"

“Damn. It was that last part wasn't it? Always go one too far. Wait. You're actually serious? What's with you tonight?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I just want it to be fun. A night to remember.”

“It's just Halloween man... For most people, that's a boozy night to forget…”

An eruption of dance, lasers and deafening Trance. Floor already sticky like it’s somehow managed to fester. Before we attempt to wade into the noise, and likely lose each other, I take a deep breath. Cleanest I’ll feel for the next few hours. “QUASAR IN THE HOUSE!!!!!” I scream. Do people still say that? Before I can sink into my millennial faux pas shame, I’m pulled into the throngs of drug fueled distraction. Half an hour, maybe one, of disgusting gyrating strangers, cheap booze and cheaper morals. It’s heaven. I manage to catch up with Andy, take a beat to recharge between DJ sets. “I'll admit, I was surprised to get the invite." I pant. "It's been months since well... You know.” Of course he knows. An elephant would actually fit in this dive.

“Exactly the reason for this party. An instance to... cut loose. Just be.”

“Well I appreciate it. Even if you did forget to tell me it's fancy dress.”

“That’s just the VIP… All worked out in the end right?”

“For the duo in the beheaded Commander Quasar couples costume? Could it be any other way?”

“You make it very hard to like you.” Entirely dry. Like a statement of fact.

“But not impossible…"

“Pretty close. I saved you from an evening gorging on candy in front of crappy reruns. Be grateful.”

“Oh thank you benevolent master.”

“You know what. I'm going to mingle for a bit. Someone I've got to see. Why don't you go to the bar? Order some shots.”

“Thanks for the recommendation? Always wondered what the point in money was. Thought it just looked pretty in my pocket!” I shout that last part, as he’d already started to walk away. Between heavy breaths, a perfumed shoulder brushes against mine. Svelte and light, she dances away, tousled hair falling onto a golden tiger mask. Something in her hand, someone with her, but I don’t care, I’m caught, in deep, dark, primal eyes. The briefest smile, and she’s gone, cutting through the crowd to a secluded VIP area. The kind that calls to you, the kind that’s literally separated by red velvet rope. How did I not notice it before? As if it’s deliberately hidden, only revealed to those in the know. Well. Now I know. Quick shake of the shoulders before I attempt the miracle of entry.

Another bouncer? Are they running a two for the price of one special? “You er? Need my name?” I peek over his clipboard, there’s definitely a list. Single names, stuff like Cher, Madonna, Sting, other culturally relevant example that doesn’t make me seem like I’m over 50… Point is, very VIP.

“No names necessary sir.”

“Good. Because it’s ‘guest’. My parents hated me. I mean, how could they not… crying all the time…going through god knows how many diapers. Anyway. Keep up the good work.” With a gentle pat I go to walk past him, until I’m stopped by the call of my name, my real one… RIP Guest, we hardly knew ye.

“Bryan! Bryan!” Andy grips my shoulder and turns me around with skeletal fingers.

“Where's your mask? the bouncer enquires “The rules stated clearly, all participants must wear a mask.” Participants?

“Well, thing is…” Andy shrinks “He kinda made me -“

“Uh uh uuuh” I counter “Rules are rules. No mask, no VIP area.” I slip around the stone faced security, and into the exclusive haven, the air feels crisper, premium, I’m home.

“Listen, I'm new to this. So if there's some rules I don't understand or... You know. Whatever. Just help a guy out... Please…"

“If there's an issue, talk to the boss.”

“Sigh...Do I have to?”

“Don't waste my time kid. No mask. No entry."

“Bryan. Don't go in there. I mean it ok? Hey. I'm serious. Just wait-”

“'Ka-tharn't hear you. Did such a good job on this cowl…"

“He's... He's wearing my mask!! That should be me!”

“I assure you, he's lying my good man.” Nailed the British accent.

“You freaks and your roleplay. Never did understand it…"

Red walls, faded and peeling, like some abandoned theatre. Furnishings are burnished gold, everything seems the product of very deliberate, cultivated efforts to embolden the facade of wealth and status. This isn’t history or prestige, place has been open for like five years. A crowd is pulled to some distant lights. Great view of the back of everyone’s heads. Now to find that sexy Tiger woman.“Where’s your buddy? You need a buddy.” A tuxedoed Lizard asks. Bless you Halloween, you never disappoint, even if I have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about.

“Dropped out... Wasn't... feeling too good. Didn't want to risk infecting everyone here…”

“A night with no playthings? How droll.”

“The drollest…” I don’t think I know what ‘droll’ even means.

“Shame. There's always next year I suppose.”

“So what is all this?”

“First time? You're gonna love it.”

“I am?”

“Oh yeah. Nothing else quite like it.”

“Cool? Cool…"

“Very cool.”

“You haven’t seen a tiger woman, by any chance?”

“We’re all animals here. If it’s prey you want to be, then simply let her hunt.” I laugh, scratching my neck nervously because I’m literally, and figuratively getting nowhere. This mask! “Anyway… gonna go freshen up. Nice talking to ya!” I can feel the sweat pooling, like an impromptu suction cup. Gotta clean it. I think I can make out a bathroom sign, pilgrim to its acid green glow. I smack the doors open with my foot, and to my decidedly mild shock, I see her. Mystery woman. Same gold tiger mask. Same backless dress. Only now, in this bleached bone light, I can see stripes painted along her spine, soft and glittered. “Oh. Sorry. Must be the wrong bathroom.”

“No. You're quite alright. Anonymity. The great equalizer. Besides. I'm not the one needing to go.” A leash leads under a stall door, to the distinct sound of water lapping. She’s washing in the basin. Flashes of red escape into the plug hole’s swirl.

“You spill something?”

“Just a few drops. Nothing they won't miss.” She doesn’t even look up.

“Mind if I?” I move closer to the adjacent sink and mirror.

“Not at all.”

“This mask is a nightmare. Clinging to my face like a second skin.”

Suddenly she places her hand over mine, arm taught as if rebar runs from her shoulder to her wrist. “You're not supposed to remove it. Even here.”

“It's just a-” Her nails dig into the top of my hand. “Jesus!”

“Even here. Leave if you must. But if you remain, so must the mask... The party never stops. Remember that.” Her head twists, arching to the corner of the bathroom's ceiling. A camera. Thought that was illegal? “Voyeurism is terribly en vogue. Come come.” A hearty tug on the leash as the stall creaks open. Crawling on all fours, a figure clad head to toe in black PVC. Errant mouth flap, still wet, swaying with each strained lurch, as latex cat ears nuzzle at their mistress' legs. She walks to the exit, tap still running, as I clutch my hand, passing it between my grip to soften the sting.

“After all... You know what happens to people without a mask…” With that warning, the strange feline vision leaves, and I don’t know whether to be curious, or wary. I think she expects me to follow. I know I want to.

Sinking into the torture of Quasar’s cowl, I seek her out, like a good boy. She’s nowhere to be seen. She. Think I’m forgetting a pretty important plastic coated element there. She and her friend. My head turns, fast enough to signal desperation. I try to stop that. I round the corner, and there, mounted atop stairs, they are. She holds her pose. For my eyes. Cupped by light. Under a sign that reads ‘Gallery’. I climb the spiral, as she chooses to escape my view again. Portraits on the wall, all masked, animals, monsters, bared teeth. This place grows odder by the second, like I’ve peeled back reality to uncover some sort of Furry masquerade ball for the elite. Double doors, tall. One open, one closed. Leads to some sort of balcony. I hesitate, unsure if I’m allowed to be here, unsure if I want to brave the Tiger woman’s territory. Someone’s behind me, lurking. An imposing presence that says, yep, I really should be at home, sat in my boxers, eating cheap candy washed down with something that burns. “Sir. The show. It’s about to begin.”

Oh thank god, it’s just the bouncer from earlier, the second one. Budget couldn’t spring for a third. Something’s majorly wrong if I’m reassured by a bald behemoth of steroid laced muscle invading my personal space. A night to remember indeed. Hint of pressure to enter, but what else am I going to do? What’s one more threshold cross into the unknown for good measure? A click clack behind. “Locked, for your safety.” Pretty sure I heard a smile at the end. Too late for boxers and candy?

“Quasar…” She’s dangerously close to the edge, double grip on the railing. Pet lounging at her side, as cats are want to do.

“Tigress…”

“Finally. Another who likes to watch.”

“... Sure do love a good show…” I stretch the words with lingering uncertainty. “Did a number on my hand back there. Broke the skin and everything.”

“Something to remember me by…” She smiles. “Pain is one of life's unique pleasures. Surely that goes without saying to ones such as ourselves?”

“Surely…"

“If I may, aren't you taking the dress code a bit too lightly? Though I suppose the mask is the only mandatory element. Why ruin perfectly good regalia.”

“Ruin?”

“Oh it gets terribly messy.”

“What the hell is going on here?”

“Hell indeed.”

Bird’s eye view of some sort of auditorium, entirely round, gladiator like. Floor appears to be concrete, rough grey marbling, visible patches of stains. An announcer emerges, shadowed by floodlight, replete with a microphone. Looks like a ringmaster, top hat, tails, everything. Domino mask or terrible eye bags.“Ladies and gentlemen” he announces, “It is with great pleasure that I present, for your delight and delectation, a humble aperitif. Supplied by one of our most generous patrons, of the ursine inclination.” Spotlight beam catching a grin between fangs, as arms outstretch. A giant pink bear rotates for a roar of applause and laughter. What? The animals finally escape the farm…“Give thanks, give thanks…” The applause spreads like an infection, until a slam of their cane. “Well. Without further ado…” Something begins to lower from the ceiling. The lights dim to a single beam of graphic focus. So bright it hurts. “Masterfully trussed. A little piggy, positively fit to burst.” It's a man. Naked save an elaborate maze of ropes, tight across reddened skin. This has got to be some kind of joke. Surely. Only no one's laughing. “Do we have a volunteer?” A figure dressed as a grim reaper shuffles forward. Their skull mask catches the light… is it diamond? Can’t be…Can it? “The reaper. Eager as ever.” A wooden bat, pierced by 20 or so nails, is thrown to their feet, brushing against a well worn cloak.

“Let's get the party started!”