Martha glanced back at the throne area. The woman with the biggest ostrich feather fan was clubbing the other fan bearer. She swung around, ducked a fan to the head and crouched down. ROBIN in big white letters was emblazoned across her purple silk-clad butt.
“Now there’s something you don’t see every day,” Martha said.
Muttonchops sighed deeply. “Oh, I see it every day. She’s everywhere.”
Martha raised an eyebrow. “I was talking about the ostrich feather fans.”
Another pillow ripped, sending a cloud of feathers through the air like a swirling snowstorm. Before long, the macho minions stepped in to settle the fight. Minionettes were dragged, kicking and screaming away from each other.
Muttonchops shuddered. “My minions. What did I do to deserve this?”
Martha watched Tilley mincing her way across the floor, dragging her tail behind her. Where else would she drag it, pray tell.
“Hey, honey,” the drunk called.
The drunk was back and following her. Martha started to go rescue her friend, who was making her way towards her and Muttonchops.
“Don’t leave me,” Muttonchops said, still staring at the minion melee.
Martha looked at the quivering man and stopped. Tilley was adjusting the shells on her boobs, when her drunk friend stepped in front of her.
“I wanna lishen to the shea in the shell,” he slurred and put one of the shells to his ear. Tilley was too shocked to move and then started giggling. “Stop it, your sideburns tickle.”
The macho minions had broken up the fight, but the room was rapidly filling with Evil Editor groupies.
“These literary types are a little strange,” Martha said, as a man and woman in huge, foam E costumes walked by, holding hands.
“They’re just…enthusiastic,” Muttonchops said.
He nodded his head. “That too.”
“Hello? Hello? Ish anyone there? One ringy dingy.”
Tilley giggled. “That tickles.”
Martha and Muttonchops looked around and saw the drunk playing telephone with Tilley’s seashell-adorned boobs.
Muttonchops shuddered. “I just really didn’t want to see that. Old women…. I just–“
Martha narrowed her eyes. “Are more experienced. The secret to sex with an older woman is never letting her get on top. Things tend to fall forward when you’re older and you don’t want to get knocked out by a bouncing boob.” She looked at him again. “You’re no spring chicken yourself.”
“No, but I’m famous. I can have any woman I want.”
‘Hmph. Didn’t know there were that many blind women around.”
A man wearing a flesh-colored body suit and pink striped socks sauntered by. Martha whistled, drawing his attention as well as most of the people in the insane asylum known as the EE Party. Socks just had time to wink before getting knocked down by a rampaging herd of minions.
The macho minions scrambled to contain the stampede, but it was like holding back a flood. A rope whistled through the air and a macho minion in a hat jerked down one of the crazed females, then hog-tied her.
The minion with the bedraggled ostrich fan clubbed a minion in a koala outfit and jumped over her furry body.
Muttonchops screamed in terror and bolted.
Martha watched the mad dash with mild interest, then shouted. “You’re famous, honey. You can have any woman you want.”