A Parody of a Parody: What Actually Happened At Semi-Formal
At semi-formal, there was a lot of grinding, and, inevitably, a lot of killing. Of course, no one knew of their eventual fates and the one person who did was nice enough not to tell them anything. As it happened, she wasn’t even at the party but rather somewhere else (Chinatown), partaking in a tedious game (of Hearts), with a handful of old friends (who shall not be named.)
Garreth O’Brien was on a mission. The responsibility of his task weighed heavily upon him as he shifted uneasily between freshmen grinding on the dance floor. The three pound Colt pistol resting in the pocket of his suit jacket reminded him of his purpose, and he stopped gawking at the perfectly round shape of Lee’s posterior as he spoke to Emma. Eventually, he thought to himself, he’s going to have to pull the trigger. Eventually.
Several minutes later, he found himself in the men’s bathroom hovering over a sink, hands cold, clammy and shaking. He looked at himself sternly, his disheveled hair that he never bothered to comb, his curiously small face, the way his facial features seemed to scrunch together when he examined himself in bathroom mirrors, and broke out into a long fit of laughter. Unable to sustain his fit of laughter standing, he crumpled to the floor like a used paper towel. Finally regaining his composure, and resolve to carry out his sacred mission, he picked himself up off the floor and went back out into the dark and cavernous club. The song, “Lets Get it Started in Here” by P!INK was playing.
Garreth O’Brien liked surprises. He was rather pleased when he found out, after much experimentation and observation, that he was in fact a boy and that he wasn’t in fact homosexual. Though, the latter observation is heavily disputed by many prominent scientists in many prominent scientific publications, he’s learned to live with it. He was also rather pleased by the copious amount of hentai available on the internet, and for free as well! The trouble he’s been saved, Mia Fey’s jiggling, wet and cum-covered tits were just a click away. Sometimes he reasoned that it was better being a boy, and some other times he reasoned that running out of tissues made life difficult.
However, Garreth O’Brien was rather displeased by the scene that greeted him when he arrived back on the dance floor. His childhood friend, Lee, and his high school fantasy, Emma, were locked in an odd embrace, doing something he’s only heard of and never seen, this so called grinding move. He was intrigued for a brief moment, the way Emma rubbed herself against Lee and their expressions of ecstasy. Then, he felt the comforting pat of his Colt .45 and remembered his holy mission.
“You! You! You whore!” He stammered, choking back tears as he drew the weapon. He felt powerful, for the first time in his short life, for the first time in his vegan life, he felt power. Absolute and divine power in the form of a pistol, in his very hands, he was God and he’ll be damned if anyone was going to try to stop him from pulling that trigger, he’ll be damned if either of them was going to live through tonight. His vengeance shall be felt.
There was nothing but silence. The music screeched to a halt. Lee and Emma jumped from each other, the whole of the club turned to Garreth, forming a circle around him and his two victims.
“She’s the whore! Take her! Take her!” In an act of desperation, Lee grabbed Emma as a human shield, “I never had sex with your mother! I swear to God! I never touched her! Or, your dog!”
“Eww! You fucked a dog!” Someone from the crowded shouted.
“Silence, infidel!” Garreth turned immediately to the voice and fired, with surprisingly accuracy, a .45 ACP between her eyes. The victim, a random girl not even from the high school in question, fell down dead, her blood staining the dance floor red. Garreth immediately returned to Lee and Emma.
“How could you?” Emma screeched, burying her head in her hands, “I thought you loved me!”
“But I do, I swear to God, I do!” Lee tried comforting her, taking her by the shoulders and pulling her into his arms.
“You had intercourse with a dog!” She wailed, weeping into Lee’s shoulder, ruining, much to his disgust, his dress shirt. He patted her awkwardly on the head, and was briefly reminded of his exchange with Garreth’s dog. It’s nice soft fur, its round, button eyes, the way it tugged at his shirt, screeching and wailing and crying. Wait, he stopped himself mentally, that’s not a part of the fantasy.
“Damnit, Emma,” he said, “Why do you have to ruin everything?”
She responded in generous sobs and sniffles. “You ruined everything! You ruined everything!”
“What did I do!?” He shouted, wrenching her from his body and looking her straight in the eyes. Emma’s moans and sniffles stopped as she returned the look. The emotional tension inflated like a hot air balloon straining as its anchorage. He broke from the gaze and added, “Besides fuck a dog…”
“I hate you!” Emma’s crying renewed, like an overdue library book, a grating sound to Garreth’s ears.
“Silence!” Garreth’s pip squeak voice boomed, “Silence, you fools! Cease your useless jabbering! Tonight, I shall deliver God’s wrath upon you!”
“Since when the hell were your religious, Garreth!?” Lee screamed back.
Caught off guard, Garreth lowered his weapon in consideration of the question. He would regret this decision deeply, but, for the moment, he was quite absorbed in thought as he tried to remember the exact moment that God came to him and gave him this holy quest. That sort of thing, their precious epiphany, is remarkably important to newly converted religious folk, people who’ve only recently found God’s light.
Taking advantage of this, Lee draws his massive katana and lunges at Garreth, who manages to duck just in time to escape certain death. Lee’s blade severing several strands of Garreth’s disheveled brown hair.
“I always knew you were Japanese!” Garreth shouted as he rolled under a table, that, moments later, came crashing down under the force of Lee’s attack. “I always knew!”
“Sayonara, bitch!” Lee swung again, popping several buttons on Garreth’s shirt. All the while Emma wept in the corner as freshmen and sophomores alike ran, screaming and helpless, from the club turned battlefield.
“That’s my line, bitch!” A new voice entered the gray. Charles Chan, appeared in the doorway Matrix style (the shades, the trench coat and all), in all his epic, Chinese glory, cocking an AK-47, with a broadsword strapped to his back and Ruozhou Ye behind him.
Emma looked up, eyes glazed with tears and upon seeing his figure in front of her, screamed, “Charles! Oh, Charles! Save me! Save me!”
“Don’t worry, babe. There’s a lot of me to go ‘round.” Charles replied with a devilish grin.
“Yeah!” Ruouzhou added, “Yo momma! That’s right! Yo momma!”
In the meanwhile, Kaitlyn Kwan and Andrew Chow were both curiously missing from the soon to be bloody massacre, unlike the author who had her reasons.
In another meanwhile, Evan Chen, not so curiously missing from the party, was stuck in traffic in Queens.
“Say hello to my little friend!” Charles suddenly switched the AK-47 for an M16 with a M203 grenade launcher, obviously channeling Al Pacino, channeling Tony Montana.
Before he could pull the trigger, Ruozhou interjected, puzzled, “But I said hello already.”
“No! Not you!” Charles turned to him, and in a hushed whisper, reprimanded, “What happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom!”
“Oh,” Ruozhou nodded in understanding.
“Right, now, where was I? Oh, yes,” Charles took aim with his M16, “Say hello to my little friend!” and pulled the trigger, firing round after round, grenade after grenade into the club. Both Lee and Garreth ran for cover behind the bar. Bottles and bottles of liquor shattered above them, showering them in liquid and glass.
“Fuck!” Lee yelled loudly, curling up into a ball as if in pain.
“Are you hit?” Garreth yelled back, a pang of corner in his voice.
“No,” Lee reverted to normalcy, “Felt like it was a necessary time–”
Garreth, suddenly remembering his mission and why he was tasked with the murder of his friend, took the opportunity to waste the annoying fucker, as he reasoned, and popped several rounds into his skull. He took a moment to watch as Lee’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and the blood ooze slowly from the three holes in his forehead, as it mixed with the liquor and the glass behind the bar.
He leaned forward in a very deliberate motion, straddling the dead boy’s waist. The word ‘necrophilia’ flashed in his mind, but he began to grind his hips against Lee’s regardless, he began to unbuckle Lee’s pants regardless. The word ‘sadomasochism’ flashed in his mind as he began firing round after round into Lee’s dead body regardless, he began licking at the boy’s wounds, covering himself in his blood. Garreth could contain his sexual desire no longer, abandoning his God in wanton lust, thrusting in and out of Lee’s (need I remind, you, dead) ass. In his last act of pure sadomasochism, as he reached his climax, between moans and screams, he jammed the barrel of his .45 between his lips, imagining as if it were Lee shooting his salty seed into his mouth, and pulled the trigger. Garreth O’Brien, one time holy crusader, inevitable homosexual, vegan, killed himself in a crime of passion.
“Yo momma!” Ruozhou shouted, dual wielding two Desert Eagles, as he leapt over the bar. He stopped short, looked at the bodies below him and fainted.
“My little friend’s out of ammo,” Charles said, panting, with Emma clinging to his leg. The M16 clattered to the floor, surrounded entirely by empty bullet shells. As he started walking, he realized that there was, in fact, something clinging to his leg. Upon realizing who it was, he began to shake vigorously in an effort to rid his leg of the extra weight. He sent Emma flying a few feet back. By this time, she was reduced to a cacophony of tears, sobs and whimpers. Somehow, Charles found her weakened and pathetic state pleasing to his libido. He walked over to her, examined her slowly from behind his aviators, her limp form under her ruined dress, the blood splatters, her tear mixing with her make up streaked her cheeks. Grabbing her by the chin, he lifted her small body off the floor. Everyone was taller than Emma so he had no trouble holding her. “Hm,” after much consideration, he decided, “You’ll do.”
Charles gestured for her to follow as he stepped over broken glass, making his way to the bar. With a raised eyebrow, he poke Ruozhou’s unconscious body with the barrel of his AK-47. “What the hell!?” He shouted after peering over the bar, leaping several feet in the air and away from the bar.
“What? What?” Emma asked eagerly, clinging to Charles’ arm.
“That’s just, that’s just,” Charles was at a lost for words. Never in his life has he seen anything as, “wrong! That’s just wrong!”
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?”
“That!”
“That? That?”
“Can you stop saying everything twice?!”
“Twice! Twice!”
“What the hell is wrong with you? Did you,” he was gesticulating wildly, “Did you fry a circuit or something?”
“Circuit! Circuit!”
“Oh, for the love of God, shut the fuck up!”
“Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up.”
“Fucking hell. Don’t make me do this.”
“Fucking hell! Fucking hell!”
“That’s it.”
“It! It!”
The shot echoed through the lonely dance club. Emma’s tear streaked eyes pulsated, widening and then dimming as she fell, slowly and painfully, to the ground like a dog being put out of its misery.
“Goddamn. Now I need to find another bitch for the night.” He muttered with a roll of his eyes, flicking the safety on the AK-47 and flinging Ruozhou’s dead body over his shoulder. He looked around the club one last time, the mess of bodies behind the bar, Emma’s shrunken form on the floor, the pool of blood gathering by her head, mixing in with her hair. He felt remorse, a slight bit of remorse and no more.
Glass crunched under his boots as he made his way to the door. He felt like Orpheus, but he did not turn back.
Epilogue
Charles Chan bumped into Evan Chen who was driving in from Queens in a HUMVEE. After getting rid of a severe traffic jam on the Queensboro Bridge by single handedly blowing up the bridge, he took the Midtown Tunnel into Manhattan. They dumped Ruozhou in the back seat and drove to Mexico, picking up Andrew Chow and Kaitlyn Kwan on the way.
No one ever knew what really happened the night of the semi-formal. There was no explanation for the death of Lee and Garreth O’Brien, or Emma Really-Long-Last-Name, or the random girl who was just a victim of circumstance and a natural disgust of bestiality.
Nowadays, the story’s passed around as a sort of urban legend among the underclassmen. It was a real hush hush sort of thing after it was discovered that Garreth O’Brien was an Islamic terrorist and that Lee was a North Korean, not Japanese, spy. On a side note, Emma Really-Long-Last-Name was revealed to be an undercover agent from a joint NSA, CIA, FBI project codenamed B.T.H. Water damage from the crying fried her internal hardware resulting in a speech malfunction that resulted in her death. B.T.H. II is said to be under development.
The author lost the game of Hearts tragically, but does not regret her decision to skip out on semi-formal.