Serene Affairs

13.0 | party ?

V H R E A

Slightly stumbling upon my golden tail trailing frock, which by many means were making it look similar to the Mockingjay dress of Katniss from the Hunger Games except for the colour though, striking my head higher than possible I tried to free my arm from the grip of Jules, who himself was dressed handsomely in a rose printed maroon tuxedo stealing the breaths of many beautiful ladies, few older than him also.

Very modestly being the big brother like he acts Jules started pointing at few important people hoping that a I could remember them correctly: one of them was Mrs Shanti Omkar, a well known jewelry designer from a Brahmin family dressed up so oddly in an elegant monochromatic sari among all the western gown outfits. The other one he mentioned was a special guest from Mangalore;David Kendal Brandt, a very well known business man from southern region of India.

Jules took another one minute to get me well known with ladies and gentlemen with whom I better keep a six feet social distance although I was already running on a tight list of my own to avoid people, only having my eyes for a man in this unnecessarily decked up crowd, the undoubted puzzle piece of my doubt clearance duty - Lucas Judas, angel of my day!

"Look there is Chici - Chici."

I tried searching for the source of projection to whom Jules was implying, any possible Mr or Mrs Chici - Chici whoever had such an unusual surname, I don't even want to think it can actually be a first name.

Jules eyes held a dreamy glow as if he found the woman of his fantasy, although I doubt that would be a possibility at this just subtle age of nineteen, but wasn't most of the female population over twenty here? I don't want an aunt for a sister - in - law!

"Who is Chici - Chici?"

Unfortunately the slow Jazz music (as a sign of honorable party music) was the only answer to my question because the next second my arm was vacant, my asshole of a twin has disparate himself into an older men group - obviously discussing some business, along with some tea.

For courtesy purpose, as my paying respect for the beautiful party, I clutched a cherry flavored some cocktail or mock-tail, whatever it was, in my hand more of it using as a face shield to avoid running into cautious people of mine : the top ranker was Kriag chauvinist Mendel.

The buffet arrangement looked quite appealing to me, with the variety of food decoration I could already smell the aroma of Chicken through my busy nostrils which were concentrating on affirmation of all the dishes name, all at once.

My belly was craving for some tasty beef soup, maybe pork could do, but I knew better not to find any here especially because of Mrs Shanti Omkar. That is what the beauty of humanity, as a sign of gratitude to her community we knew not to cross the line, secularism still does prevail, at least for us.

The dessert palate mirrored more appetizing as I could easily find some of my favourite yummy pies, though I must say there is nothing which can beat Tessa honey's strawberry pudding, or it's just my obsession for that particular fruit.

Knowing by the standard of the party I could easily tell the gushing food on the shining tables were all from some Michelin star restaurants, one surprising dish allured my attention because maybe I was seeing that for the first time in my life - Platypus sweet - it was a strange looking duck shaped, with webbed feet and beaver like a tail, designed, when touched it would blast open spraying red fluid all around, although for hygienic purpose they have arranged bowls here. The fluid was pomegranate juice is what I guessed, although the thought of it being blood sent a shiver down my spine.

It could be better named - touch me not sweet solid drink, see I have all rights to brag about my nickname abilities.

From the corner of my eye I saw Grandpa watching me disapprovingly for playing carelessly with the Platypus Sweet, strangely I could read through his expressions which was beaming proudly - happy to finally have me in this party, all I didn't want for that old man to do is take the mic from the host and announce this a groom-searching - function for me instead of the Order of whatever party this was and the second worst possibility was everybody knowing that I was an Ashtrick descendant.