Viva Brighton Issue #28 June 2015

flash fact competition
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The Party
By Cheryl Day
There was never a ‘morning after’ like the one I
experienced twenty years ago.
“Nick, honestly, I really appreciate this, I’ll definitely
pay you back Friday.”
Nick was my hero; the only friend I knew with a
car and a couple of hundred pounds to hand.
My brother – two years younger than me but infinitely
wiser – sat in the back seat rolling his eyes.
I felt sick, not because of my drinking the night
before, but because of everyone else’s.
My Dad had a homemade bar; spirits on optics, a lift
up hatch, a pineapple-shaped ice bucket and his most
prized possession, his collection of alco-pops. Almost
ninety bottles, every one different and each one still
full. An obsessive collector, he was convinced that
one day they would be worth something.
“Have anything you want,” I’d said, “just don’t
touch the collection.” But now they were all gone.
After my Friday night bar shift I’d decided to
invite a couple of friends back. My parents were
away for the weekend so why not, what was the
worst that could happen? It was actually quite
amazing when I look back at it now, especially as
this was the age before mobile phones, that it managed
to escalate so quickly and to such a scale.
Saturday morning, as I ran frantically in and out of
each off-licence with bags clanking, I recalled the
uninvited DJ complete with decks and flashing lights.
My stomach churned as I remembered someone
throwing up on the driveway as a neighbour walked
by. As I entered the DIY store I was reminded of the
state of the bathroom as a ‘friend’ had decided to
paint the white walls with red hair dye. The whole
time, as the music boomed, my brother had sat on
the stairs watching, shaking his head.
Sunday came and my parents returned. Dad got
settled and mum started making dinner. Had they
not noticed how clean the house was? Did they
not smell the fresh paint and spy the flecks of
emulsion in my hair? I must have got away with it.
“I’m having a party tonight,” dad announced, “I’m
inviting all my friends. I think it’s about time I
broke open that collection, no point in it sitting
there, what do you think?” he smirked.
It has been twenty years since my last party.
Next month’s prompt is ‘The Gift’. True Life stories
of no more than 400 words in by 15th June please.
The winning entry gets published here and receives
a £25 book token from Kemptown bookshop. Please
send entries to barbara@blackmustard.co.uk
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