Veronica's Party

It was one of those typical Runbird Sister affairs, a gathering of the tribes, a meeting of the mindless, a night to remember if only you could. Some of Tara's best and brightest were in attendance, along with many of her unregenerate worst; the trick was in telling them apart. The mood was running high even though one of the titular hostesses had just trooped off to the oilfields to defend our western way of life. Most folks were able to take this in stride. It took a lot to slow down a Runbird party.

"Oh wow, Hugo's got some X," cried a woman in a slashed black leotard.

"X," said her companion, the guy in the gold lamé jockstrap and matching sandals. "Oh wow, I haven't had any of that since, uh, junior high."

That sort of evening. You remember.