ONE IN THE EYE

Usually, I detest Parties. The invites arrive with startling punctuality. Not because of my popularity, but my family are in demand. My sisters relish attending or (sometimes worse) holding them. 'You are a joyless freak,' remarked one of them. Okay, when I was younger, I managed a few hoolies, by pigging on hot dogs, ice-cream and cokes. There's a downside to that!         However, one 'do' was interesting in a way. A great looking girl asked me to dance. Not that I can. Dance, I mean. Strobe lights were flashing, so maybe she didn't notice my pathetic moves. We shared a smoke outside and attempted a smooch. That was cool. The music stopped abruptly and a loudspeaker boomed through the windows.
        'Is there anybody brave enough to take part in extra entertainment in the back room?'
Cassie clutched my arm and pleaded with me to return. Reluctantly, I agreed.
The back room was dimly lit by one light bulb over a screen. Several people stood nervously waiting. The compere was my old enemy, Richie Brooks. When I started College, I was dead chuffed that he wasn't around!
        'What have we here? he shouted, 'Pete Fisher, come up and impress your girlfriend. Just step behind the screen'
I'll admit my guts were churning. I'd been had by that joker many times at school, but could never refuse with Cassie beaming encouragement.
        'Okay, Brooks I'll play your stupid game' I muttered.
With a theatrical bow, he ushered me in front, whilst one of his dozy mates drew the screen around us. On the floor was a long, lumpy, shape covered with a starry blanket. Brooks produced a scarf and blind-folded me. Yeah, I was nervy, as he shuffled me where he wanted and barked 'Kneel down and keep still!'

ONE IN THE EYE

        A recorded voice crackled. 'You are in the company of Admiral Horatio Nelson. He lost his right arm in battle. Feel his sleeve'. Tentatively, I felt the mound, which was a body, and found an empty sleeve. A mate of Brooks was probably the corpse. Weird. The recorded voice again:         'Also, Admiral Nelson lost the sight in one eye. Feel his eye-patch'. I felt the face and found the patch, then struggled to my feet to stop the charade, but I was pushed back and my fingers forced down. There was something wet, sticky and cold on them. I wrenched the blind-fold off and looked into a bowl of bright orange jelly with bits of tinned orange floating about. In my anger and embarrassment I grabbed the bowl and tipped the contents on my enemy's head. He tripped over the screen and the watchers applauded the dripping, orange, compere. I grabbed Cassie and shouted out 'Aye, Aye, Sir' and we left. Some parties are okay, I guess.