Extraterrestrial | #wattys2016

connivance >> the actual murder

Word of the day: Connivance.  A fancy word for conspiracy.  A scheme in the making.  A devious plan.

The rest of the party was horrible.  Nothing was interesting.  Everything was boring, especially the girl since she didn't say anything to me.  She just sat there, hands in her laps, paying attention to the creepy guy.  She was like a bull with a ring her tiny, sweet, sexy little nose.  He could tell her to do anything and she would do it.

There was a moment during this awful threesome where he spilled his drink and she cleaned it up.  It was his fault, he should have cleaned it!  And she wasn't cleaning up after him because she was a polite little lady, but because he gave her this "do it now or I'll uninvite you to this disgusting party."  

I don't even know why we stayed -- I mean, why I stayed.  I was so frustrated that I wasn't home in my bed, sleeping.  Sleeping was the only time I wasn't worrying.  I even worried about how I was going to fall asleep.  But now, experiencing this kind of torture made me want to count the minutes wasted with my eyes open.

God.  This was simply miserable.  I was getting hungry and we only had cheese and a dry cupcake split between us.  I think I stayed because the thought of being rude was worse than enduring the pain of sitting on a metal chair.  

There was one point, though, where the creepy guy served me a glass of water.  I was going to drink from it before the girl nudged me with her foot.  I thought she had accidentally kicked me, but when I saw her effort to touch me from that distance without being noticed, I knew it wasn't coincidental.  The whole moment of me trying to kindly refuse the beverage was rather comical hadn't it been a reality.

The creepy man (I forgot his name), sat it down and said, "Drink!"

I reached out, smiling, and then before I placed the glass to my lips, the girl kicked me.  I frowned at her before she cleared her throat loudly.  I wasn't stupid, so, I put the glass down, waved at it and said, "Oh, no, thank you.  I'm completely satisfied on air right now.  Thank you."

She looked relieved, but the creepy man looked offended.  So, not wanting to disappoint, I tried at the drink again before the girl sneezed.

"Drink!  You look thirsty!"

"Right, yeah, I changed my mind, I'm actually very parched."  Here, I glared at the girl and touched the cool, refreshing beverage to my lips.  I was getting dry simply from the air and the thought of something moistening my throat seemed like the appropriate solution.  But apparently, the girl didn't think the solution in my glass was something I needed in my system. 

She kicked me again and I about sloushed the water onto the floor.

"Is something wrong?"  the host asked, noticing this strange interaction between two people who barely even smiled at one another.

"No, actually, I would rather have some...milk."

"I don't drink milk."

There was silence.

"Umm, of course, that's fine.  Me neither.  I was just wondering if you had more cheese.  It's very good."

"Oh yes!  I will cut more!  I love cutting!"  He jumped up and dashed into the kitchen, giving me a moment to talk to the girl.

"Stop kicking me!"  I hissed.

The girl swallowed and said in a rather deep voice for a woman.  "It's poisoned."

"No, it's not."

"It is.  You have to leave.  Say you're not feeling well."

I was about to reply, not really believing what she was saying, but the man came back and gave me a piece of cheese.