Something was going on, during the something that was always going on. In this instance it looked as though the random event generator, which governed Andy's life, was broken. He'd been at this party for over two hours and nothing earth shatteringly embarrassing had happened to him. No one had laughed as they pointed at him. People weren't saying things about Andy behind his back. There were no smirks as he passed. Things were going abnormally well for the techie. This made him nervous. It created a growing sense of doom. Illogically he homed in on Ed, the source of approximately 99.99% of his problems. This brought him into proximity with Daisy and her beautiful girlfriends. It was like throwing a match into a petrol soaked room full of incendiary devices. The potential for him to become an object of the mobs ridicule was approaching critical mass. Ed had a pair of scanty, pink panties in his jacket pocket plus a pint of brandy in his right hand.
"How tall are you Ed?" A leggy redhead was asking him as she ran her fingers down a lapel.
"About 80 kilo's. Or it could be kilometers. I'm never sure. I have a problem with weights and measures."
The young woman giggled. She didn't understand that wasn't a joke. Andy wasn't about to correct her misapprehension. It could all to easily lead into a lengthy explanation of the muffin based system Ed and his compatriots used. Suffice to say Ed was 27.4 muffins in height and weighed 550 or so muffins. As far as Ed was concerned his system simplified things. For him this was a firm possibility. For everyone else it wasn't. Although occasionally Andy had caught himself pondering how many muffins it was until lunch time. Odd, given the muffin based system wasn't applicable to time. Daisy had noticed him. There was the merest glint of recognition in those brown eyes.
"So Shandy, what have you been up to this week? Anything interesting?" Daisy inquired, in a way which could mean she was actually interested.
This was dangerous territory. Too dangerous to risk. Thanks to the blackout he had no idea. Apart from a few hints from Ed and more recently Keith. That fifty was still in his top pocket. It was completely pointless, but instead of answering her question he'd attempt correcting his name.
"My name's not Shandy. It's Andy."
Daisy's face wrinkled in puzzlement.
"I'm sorry. I've got no idea what you've just said Bandy. Must be your thick Scottish accent."
Her face crinkled again while he attempted to pull this around.
"I'm not Scottish. I've never been further north than Manchester. Why would you think I have a Scottish accent?"
After a few stretched seconds comprehension seemed to hit her. Along with sympathy, which was even more humiliating.
"Oh." She covered her mouth. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize. I thought you talked weirdly because of where you come from. I didn't know you had a severe speech impediment. Why didn't anyone tell me? I expect they didn't want to make you feel any worse than you already do. It must be hard battling a handicap like that. Good for you Handy."
Oh fuck it. That was close enough. No point swimming against this current. She pitied him now, that was almost a win. Before he could wade even deeper into this swamp of misunderstandings, the music stopped. In the relative quiet that ensued, Ed's phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, glanced at the caller. Having identified who it was Ed answered on the sixth ring.
"You're a filthy, disgusting cock sucking whore. And I want fuck all to do with you." He roared, before pausing to listen to the response. "Yes I know mum, but that doesn't make any difference. You cannot unsuck any of those cocks." Another pause. "Yes. I'll definitely be over for Sunday dinner. Will dad be there?" The voice on the other side grew a bit louder. "Yes. I know he's my father, but thanks to you I didn't have any choice in the matter." A further lull. "Well obviously I wouldn't have chosen him. Nobody would, he lacks any qualifications for the role" His voice rose in volume and anger again. "Now fuck off you ugly old cunt." Before returning to a normal conversational tone. "Bye mum, I'll see you Sunday. Don't forget to tell dad I love him." Ed hung up, shrugging. "Wrong number."
Well at least they were getting along better, Andy thought. Of course the question was, whose parents were bricked up in the cellar? The mystery that was Ed continued to deepen. As did the mystery as to why no one else noticed the enormous contradictions in the tall tales he told. The problem, as Andy swiftly realized, was no matter what lies his landlord produced, he could always prove them. Ed was indeed going for Sunday lunch with his parents, from whom he'd inherited this house after bricking them up in the cellar. At least that's how it seemed.
A pair of yellow panties had joined the pink ones in Ed's pocket. How did he do that? Andy would have loved to know. He couldn't even wrestle the underwear off a shop mannequin. Unfastening a bra was well beyond his capabilities, as was forming a lasting relationship with any member of the opposite sex. Even his own mother largely ignored his presence. Unless you counted the loud tutting every time she entered a room he was in.
The music came back on. Caroline and Daisy were dancing together. The cry went up, they needed some more cold beers. Ed volunteered Andy for the task, his arms now wrapped around two of Daisy's friends. Both of whom were enjoying his attention. How did he do that? It wasn't as if he was particularly handsome. There was no overt show of wealth. Most of the time he talked complete nonsense, and much of that was deeply disturbing. Yet there he was with two attractive young ladies hanging on his every word.
"Hybristophilia." Caroline announced to a bemused Andy.
"Sorry?"
"It's a sexual attraction to dangerous people, like serial rapists and murderers." She explained. "I'll give you a hand fetching the beers if you like."
"How di..?"
"How did I know that's what you were thinking about?"
"Yes."
This was spooky. Nothing exceptional about that in this house.
"Intuition."
The pair of them made their way to the kitchen. The young man still trying to work out how uninformative that answer was. It had almost Ed like proportions. How many muffins was that? While he was trying to work that out he went to the fridge, pulling the door open.
"Urgh argh!" He yelped, his heart having leaped out of his chest as he recoiled from the sight before him.
"What do ya want?" Biggie demanded, looking up from the book he was reading.
In the fucking fridge? There was no light, until you opened the door. And that was the least of the problems with this scenario. Caroline held out her hand to the small man.
"You must be Biggie, Ed told me all about you."
They shook.
"You must be Caroline then. Ed told me all about you to."
What? When? How? Andy's still racing heart was being overtaken by his racing brain.
"We've run out of beers." The blond explained.
Biggie held out two six packs. Andy took them.
"How are you for cheese?" Biggie inquired helpfully.
"Fine thanks. Are you going to join us?"
The short guy looked at his watch, shaking his head.
"I'd love to, but I've got to knock out a 750 word review of this book for the Times Literary Supplement before midnight. If I don't the editor will be all over my ass. It's pretty heavy going to be honest. Not the author's best work by far. Should sell well though."
"I didn't know you were a literary critic Biggie." Andy added his sole contribution so far. Discounting the introductory shriek of terror.
"I'm not. I'm a food critic. This cheese is shit. Thing is these days in the printed media you have to have multiple income streams. Thursday's I'm a lifeguard at the local pool. Keeps the money rolling in. Nice to meet ya Caroline. Feel free to pop in any time." Biggie turned to Andy. "Now close the door ya prick. You're letting all the cold out."
There were even more people in the living room. Even excluding the two doormen who'd appeared out of nowhere, it was a good crowd. The music was pumping and the booze was flowing. Andy placed the two six packs on top of the others. No point torturing himself trying to work out where they'd come from. Looked like Keith had pulled. He was leading a man out of the room and up the stairs. Andy hoped they wouldn't be using his room. He'd had far more problems with stained bedding than he could handle already. Ah well. He was at a banging party. No one was bullying or demeaning him. Life went on as always. He just wished his wasn't quite so jerky.