First Draft Fabulism

You will sit here, on the right side of the table. The heads are reserved for my husband and me, you understand. We like to adhere to traditions. I mean to say, we like to adhere to traditions when it comes to things like seating for a dinner party. Other than that, my husband and I are really quite liberal. Wily. I imagine some people might go as far as to say that we are the most original couple they have ever met.
But I’m sure you have also come to that realization. I saw the way your eyes bugged out with pleasant surprise when you saw our collection of taxidermy pheasants. I’m sure you didn’t expect to see such riches in a house that has a silly dog-shaped mail box. (My daughter made that. She’s an artist. Not very talented. My husband insists we should support her and put up her art. He doesn’t ask for much. And I’m a generous woman.) As for the taxidermy, it’s always been a hobby of mine. That bear-rug is my prize possession. And see that snow-goose over the mantle? Would you believe that I got it at a garage sale for only five dollars? Hush, though—that’s a little secret. I’m not that kind of woman that lives for garage sales. Oh, ha. Far from it. It was more of a “we-must-sell-everything-and-flee-the-country” sort of sale anyway. From what I heard, he lost all his money gambling. There were some debts he owed to the mob. She tried prostitution for a while but it just wasn’t her thing. I bought that snow-goose out of the goodness of my heart. Every penny counted toward their salvation.
You look thirsty. Come to the kitchen. There’s my husband, Moe. Say hello, dear. He’s shy. Aren’t you? Yes. Well, what would you like? My fridge is your fridge. Let’s see. We have wine, of course. Any alcohol you’d like, I’m sure we have it. And there’s orange juice and cranberry juice and our water purifier and—oh that? No, don’t worry, it’s not human blood. My youngest is using it for a science project. Where did she get it? Now that you mention it, I haven’t the faintest idea…
Just water? Are you sure? You look a little pale. Maybe it’s just the light. I keep telling my husband he should fix the lights. Maybe someday, right dear? You don’t mind if I have a glass of wine, do you? Wonderful. I’ve always believed it’s good to start off these little parties tipsy.
These glasses are so small. I wish it were still socially acceptable to use goblets. Yes, goblets. Like in those King Arthur films. I’m quite the history nut. You wouldn’t think it by just looking at me, though, would you? Would you believe that someone approached me on the street thinking I was Angelina Jolie? Well, they did.
Let me tell you about our guests. My husband and I try to throw one of these shindigs once a month. My son hates it. He says we’re impeding on his style. (My husband and I are concerned that he’s gay, but that’s another story entirely.)
Let us see. You are sitting here, at the right side of the table. I’ve placed you in between Harry Miller and Victoria Wells. Both eligible, depending on the way you swing. They used to be married. It was a messy divorce. I wouldn’t bring it up. Oh, and while we’re on the subject of things not to bring up, I wouldn’t mention the government to Harry unless you want a bucket of conspiracy theories poured into your ear. Honestly, don’t even talk to him about the post office.
As for Victoria, well, crazy isn’t the right word to describe her, but I wouldn’t mention institutions, doctors, medical schools, money, taxes, bandages, cats or baby carrots. It would strike the wrong chord, and you do want to start off your relationship on the right foot. Believe me. It will do you no favors to be on her bad side.
Here at the head is my husband of course. You met him in the kitchen. He’s quiet when he’s sober. Don’t worry, that won’t last long tonight. Try not to be alarmed if he starts to cry and confess to atrocious crimes or threaten you with the bottle opener. He’s harmless. I mean to say, he’s harmless now. I’ve never actually witnessed him harm anybody. Poor Moe has spent the last ten years in and out of jail. I wouldn’t be completely floored if he went back in the near future. Oh, don’t apologize, it makes life exciting. He looks familiar to you? Well, you’ve probably seen on him on America’s Most Wanted at least once. I think it’s sexy. Is that wrong? It’s something about crime that just makes me hot. Your stutter is so cute, dear.
I put Tilda Marks next to my husband. Perchance you saw her house when you drove in? It’s not hard to miss. It’s the big, dark one at the end of the cul-de-sac. Yes, with all the cats and the hearse. She bought that hearse second hand. Can you say bargain? The kids have themselves convinced that’s she’s a witch but I believe that that handyman died of natural causes. And the bats are not her pets (I don’t think.) Anyway, she’s a lovely lady with a taste for French films and literature. She’s quite the Francophile. But aren’t we all?
The obvious choice to place next to her is Jean-Claude Pierre. You’re fluent in French? Well, that’s wonderful, dear, but Jean-Claude doesn’t speak a word of it. Jean-Claude isn’t even his real name. He’s an old friend of Moe’s. Don’t ask him questions and try not to make eye contact. It makes him antsy. And try to make sure you never stand in between him and a window or a door. He likes to know there’s a means for escape. Naughty, naughty, what did I say about asking questions? I put Jean-Claude next to Tilda because I think they’re doing it. Do you know what I mean? Doing it? I mean they’re having sex. At least, I think they are. I’m not a gossip, but I thought you should know so you don’t think it’s odd when they both excuse themselves from the table several times during dinner. Hehe, consider yourself warned.
Last but not least, sitting next to Jean-Claude, is my great-grandfather Lawrence. He died twenty-five years ago. We still set a place for him. You wish you could have met him? Oh, you will he’s always prompt and never fails to clean his plate. He’s not much of a talker, but he will rattle the table if the conversation displeases him. Last time he and Harry got in such a fight. You should have seen it. Plates and cutlery were flying everywhere. It was the kind of party no one ever forgets. Those are the kind of dinner parties I aim to throw.
I just want to say it’s so nice you agreed to come over tonight. Really. Most people at work are too busy (not that I’m persistent. As if I would want Lucy Jennings or Tom Hams at my dinner table.) Here we go, there’s the doorbell. Let’s raise our glasses: here’s the hoping you have a simply marvelous time.