Mike’s BBQ…
TIMMY (turning around to ash his cigarette): There’s a kid behind me.
(We turn, there’s a little boy with food smeared all over his face jumping up and down on a lawn chair)
Me: Oh ick. And he’s filthy. This is simply not acceptable.
Drew: Send him down to the basement with Uncle Bob and his silly powder. Family fun!
Me: MICHAEL. Did you kill my playlist??
MIKE (dancing past my chair): Yes! No more classic rock! The gays want something FUNKY.
Me: Goddamnit. I really hate it when you get funky. This sucks! My ears are sad. Look at Timmy, he’s drooping!
Timmy (blowing out smoke): I’m drooping. And there’s a kid behind me. Give her back the remote.
Me: Is this Neil Diamond? Are we actually listening to Neil Diamond right now? Agh! The life is draining out of me! Give me that remote!
BOB (holding the sound system remote out of my reach): You know, if I wasn’t high on massive amounts of mushrooms right now, my feelings might be hurt.
Orange colored, overly made up Long Island girl standing behind me to her equally spray-tanned friend: You drinkin’ the Mike’s Lemonade? How’s the berry?
Me (yanking Mike’s arm and pulling him down towards my chair): Michael, this guest list is out of hand.
Timmy: Bro, I hate kids.
Mike: It’s only once a year! Want some drugs? The fireworks are going to start soon!
Drew: Hey Mike, I think those random Korean cleaning ladies you invited just stole all the chicken. How’s the berry??
Bob: This is going to be my America mix! Next up, Born In the USA by Springsteen.
Me: Sigh…
TIMMY (turning around to ash his cigarette): There’s a kid behind me.
(We turn, there’s a little boy with food smeared all over his face jumping up and down on a lawn chair)
Me: Oh ick. And he’s filthy. This is simply not acceptable.
Drew: Send him down to the basement with Uncle Bob and his silly powder. Family fun!
Me: MICHAEL. Did you kill my playlist??
MIKE (dancing past my chair): Yes! No more classic rock! The gays want something FUNKY.
Me: Goddamnit. I really hate it when you get funky. This sucks! My ears are sad. Look at Timmy, he’s drooping!
Timmy (blowing out smoke): I’m drooping. And there’s a kid behind me. Give her back the remote.
Me: Is this Neil Diamond? Are we actually listening to Neil Diamond right now? Agh! The life is draining out of me! Give me that remote!
BOB (holding the sound system remote out of my reach): You know, if I wasn’t high on massive amounts of mushrooms right now, my feelings might be hurt.
Orange colored, overly made up Long Island girl standing behind me to her equally spray-tanned friend: You drinkin’ the Mike’s Lemonade? How’s the berry?
Me (yanking Mike’s arm and pulling him down towards my chair): Michael, this guest list is out of hand.
Timmy: Bro, I hate kids.
Mike: It’s only once a year! Want some drugs? The fireworks are going to start soon!
Drew: Hey Mike, I think those random Korean cleaning ladies you invited just stole all the chicken. How’s the berry??
Bob: This is going to be my America mix! Next up, Born In the USA by Springsteen.
Me: Sigh…
MISS ANTHROPE'S HOUSE OF HIGH DRAMA 