Party of the Century

The party was finally over, but there was no time to wait. The clean-up was just beginning and it would be well into the mid-afternoon before they would be done.

Jason, knee-deep in picking up the remains of the festivities, stepped lightly around the bodies of a couple of partygoers who would definitely not be driving home. In fact, none of the guests would be going anywhere, the sign of a truly great party.

He smiled in relief upon seeing his partner, Michael, emerge from the kitchen carrying two perfect martinis: extra olives and dirty as hell.

"I thought this might help," grinned Michael, handing the beverage off.

"It certainly won't hurt, my friend. This mess is brutal work."

The partners clinked glasses and sipped their victory juice. Surveying the chaos left by 'The Party of the Century,' as it had been called by more than one guest, the pair couldn't help but beam with pride.

Jason and Michael had become notorious for nefarious weekend throwdowns, both basically being kids in grown-up bodies. This party, however, had been the coup-de-gras. The detritus of the night's debauchery strewn about the house being evidence. By all accounts, it was a perfect night.

The only real hiccup had been the lone police officer who had graced their doorstep. The party's music had gone from pumping to rave-level in no time making a visit from the cops inevitable. However, this wasn't the first time one of their parties had been nearly shut down. The two friends had always prevailed before and this sequel would be no different.

The hosts, able to placate the officer, had wiped their brows at the close call. Tonight's plan didn't include the police, not that their plans ever did. If they had to deal with the 5-0 again the solution wouldn't be as simple as a friendly smile and an assurance that they would keep it down. It was something they were quite used to and more than capable of handling.

Luckily, they were spared that headache as the rest of the party went off as advertised. Jason and Michael were thrilled with the turnout and had mingled and danced the night away with the trendiest people in NYC.

The cream of the hoity-toity elite, fashionistas, designers, celebrities, pop stars, and the like had graced the small mansion and not been disappointed with the grandeur and fun presented to them.

Jason and Michael were elated at the turnout. They had pulled off their greatest work to date. For one night, they were the kings of the city. They had taken Manhattan and they weren't about to give it back.

Now, at 3:30 in the morning, the music had ended, the party was over, and the hundred-plus guests were strewn about the house in various states. Both hosts were exhausted at this point, but the clean-up had to be done.

"This is always the worst part, wouldn't you agree?" Jason said.

Michael shrugged. "I don't know. I don't usually clean up."

The two shared a chuckle, resuming their arduous work in between sips.

They were scrubbing down the matching leather recliners when a soft moan from the far side of the living room broke the near silence. Jason and Michael exchanged curious looks, wry smiles curling at their lips.

"Seems we have a live one!" said Michael, setting down his martini and soaked sponge on the coffee table in front of him. "Shall we flip for it?" he said, quickly retrieving a coin from his pocket.

"Nah. You take this one. I took care of the last one."

Michael beamed with excitement as he moved toward the groaning behind the oversized couch.

"Who are you?" Michael asked, gently shaking the moaning body of a young man he didn't immediately recognize. His head was lolling back and forth as he began to come around.

"B--Br--Bran--don," the young man coughed out. "H--He--Help--me. I don--don't know--what happened--but--I--I think I'm hurt..."

Michael brushed Brandon's matted hair back revealing terror-filled eyes.

"Shh. Lie still, Brandon. This was an 'invitation only' party and I don't know you. Who did you come here with?"

"Je--Jen."

"Ah, yes! Jen! She told me all about you. You two were 'co-workers with benefits', I believe." Michael looked back at Jason's widening grin.

"Wh--where--is she?" Brandon gasped, trying to sit up. Michael put his hand on the young man's chest.

"It's okay, Brandon. Don't worry, she's right here."

The young man turned his head, mustering a smile at seeing Jen's baby-blue eyes staring back at him. As reality set in Brandon let out a scream. The vacant, unblinking stare, the pool of blood congealing around the side of her face, her head no longer attached to her body...

The scream abated as the kitchen knife plunged repeatedly into Brandon's chest. Michael leaned in closer to his victim listening to the blood gurgle, the final breath passing his young lips. The boy's eyes were wide, his situation finally understood.

"There it is!" he said giddily. "I love the looks on their faces when they figure it all out!" Michael said as he stood up, blood streaming like a waterfall down his face and upper body.

"Agreed," replied his stoic friend. Jason joined his partner, looking down on the final victim with mild disgust. "What are we going to do with all this stuff?" Jason said, his sweeping gesture taking in the dismemberment covering the rest of the house.

Jason contemplated the implications of dealing with this many bodies at the same time. He took a thoughtful sip from his nearly empty glass before speaking.

"We could give them a proper burial," he said flatly.

Michael's face turned whiter than usual at this incredulous idea. Unable to contain himself any longer, Jason broke the tension, nearly falling onto the floor in laughter. Michael quickly followed suit. Once they had regained a bit of their composure they raised their glasses in a final salute to their bloody masterpiece.

"Here's to us and the 'Party of the Century!'"

"I'll drink to that!"