Party Shifter

by KAK  

Useless talent I have that is fun at parties...

Dudes, I'm a total shapeshifter.

Nope, wasn't caused by an arachnid run amok in chem lab or by a raucous night in the deep dark woods. My specialness isn't hereditary. There's no magical ring. No illumination of any celestial body is required. My useless party talent?

Jackass on Demand. 

No, no booze is required. I can shift in record time. Nanoseconds, really. Whatever insanity possessed the host or hostess to invite me to the fête will be rewarded with my glorious instantaneous transformation. It doesn't take much to transform. Glowing examples of my party prowess:

• Valet parking: Sorry, Speed-Racer, I don't have anything smaller than a $20. No tip for you. 
• Hostess gifts: Twin bottles of Twisted Titty Merlot? Shattered in the entryway as I tripped over a spec of dust. They did leave a darling Rorschach test on the back of Mrs. Drownwhenitrains, so we'll have a game to play should there be a lull. 
• Black-tie affair: Everyone knows stilettos shatter ceramic floor tiles. Why else would I have thought the husband had agreed to a kitchen redesign? 
• BBQ cookout: Little monsters will be encouraged to deposit gooey fingerprints on random passersby. Games of Tag are always better with evidence.
• Singles Soiree: I'm happy to teach every gal to belch the alphabet. It's much better than the gas blasting out the other end. 
• Wine tasting: A lady never spits. She swallows...and then she falls asleep at the table and drools.

I could go on, but I see you've already shredded my invite. It's quite all right.  I tend to leave before anyone tries to pin a tail on this donkey.

How about you, lovely reader? Do you have any reoccurring fête foibles?