Jason was getting frustrated. The embroidered jacket was chafing, the
bar scotch he’d ordered was watery, and he was sweating in the rubber
pants. What the hell he thought, I may as well enjoy my drinking, if I
can’t enjoy the bloody party. He poured his drink into an abandoned
margarita, and caught the bartender’s eye. “Double shot of Macallan,
neat,” he ordered. The bartender, a bored-looking gorilla in a nun’s
habit, said, “Top shelf is four bucks a shot,” waited for his reaction,
and when he said nothing, turned to pour.
Jason had come to the Hallowe’en party alone, as a last resort, knowing
full well he would most likely remain alone. He looked around the
party, noting the many couples that had formed since the masquerade
…End of the part1. To be continued..
