Marty Casey's dinner party

Here is another short story. It is about a man named Marty Casey who is having a dinner party. Enjoy.

It was 630 and the guests were set to arrive any minute. The candles were lit, the table cloth was firmly pressed, the glasses were all lined up on the table in the shape of a tree. All the trimmings and preperations that Marty Casey had gone through to make this party the smash that he dreamed of had not been in vain. His apartment was ready, and so was he. He had put on his favorite pinstriped pants, white longsleeved button down cotton shirt with the holes in his arms, and his black vest. The hat on his head had the quail feather that he believed was the key to his happiness, and it perfectly made his freshly flat ironed hair compliment his face and bone structure. "Tonight is going to be perfect." Marty said to his refelction in the 9 foot tall mirror in his living room.

DING DONG the door bell announced the first of his visitors. Marty took a deep breath and walked over to turn the knob. Bowing emphatically, he opens the door, "Welcome noble guests, please enter my humble home and enjoy the wonderment there within."

Looking up he sees a woman standing there who he did not recognize. She held in her hand an envelope with his name on it. "Can I come in Mr. Casey?" she requested with a certain look in her eyes that made him stir from the core of his pants.

"Yes baby, please do." he said nervously. There was something about her. Her hair smelled like Cap'n Crunch and her heels were 6 inches tall. She walked with purpose and when she entered his house, she looked at the table. Marty suddenly had a horrible feeling, what if this elegant creature doesn't like his table setting? His heart began to race.

"Mr Casey, I have come here for one reason, and one reason only. You see, 29 years ago when I was at day care, I drew a picture of who I thought would be my ideal man. He was blonde, about 6'2, slender and could conduct magical orchestras with his arms and his words. Mr. Casey, I believe you are he. Now, before you say anything, I a not here to trap you, I am here for a greater purpose. I have, in this envelope the answer to a question that the love of your life will ask you tonight."

Totally dumbfounded, Marty asked the obvious question. "But, you just said that I was your ideal man, if that paper answers a question from the love of my life, where does that leave you?"

"Oh Mr. Casey, I have come to realize long ago that you and I were never supposed to be together. Just because you are my ideal, that does not mean we are supposed to ever bring justification to our love. I know this makes no sense, but the beauty of the whole thing is that it is not supposed to. I must go, it was nice meeting you, and I love the song Trees. Perfect mix of poppy beats and lyrical mastery. Well done" and with that, this tall stranger was gone leaving behind the envelope and a confused Marty.

As the night went on, his guests who arrived enjoyed his food, company and spirits. The party was turning out to be a smashing success and Marty was extremely pleased. A game of "Worst Joke" was well underway. Tito Sparklepants, (the flambouant stripper who crashed the party) enthusiastically stands up and clears his throat, "I got one. What do you get when you are playing tennis and you fall into a vat of curdled milk?"

"Oh you've got to be kidding me" he says,angrily as he remembers what was written on the piece of paper in the envelope.

"Cheese Racquet"

El Fin.