Happy Hour by P-SynergEBooks


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									Happy Hour
Author: David S. Grant

Will and Sara are having guests over for a dinner party disguised as a Happy Hour. One of the guests,
Jack, is on the verge of rock stardom… if only if lifestyle will allow such success. Josh and Katherine are
dealing with a past of children, a stressed marriage, and prison time.

The story begins with preparation then takes us to Jack and his guest as they enjoy pre-dinner cocktails
while trolling for women in all of the wrong places. After a dinner (that entails more drinking than eating)
tragedy finds some of the guests and the answer to the underlying question "How many people are
needed to be considered an orgy?" is answered.

Happy Hour is a story of scary conversation and remembering a past that maybe better forgotten. There
are surprise announcements and a constant flow of vodka in this tale of an evening in Manhattan.

Once invitations have been sent, it’s difficult to cancel. It’s one of those few times you need to pick up a
phone and call. No email. No text. No message posted on your favorite forum. Not even a follow-up
invitation retracting the initial invite. No, you need to make a call. This is why parties are rarely cancelled.
Today people will go to great lengths not to have to make a call.

It was Sara’s idea. Since moving to the Upper West Side, we’ve lost touch with our friends. Our friends
having children, demanding jobs and recreational heroin addictions had nothing to do with this; no, it was
apparently our move Uptown that built this imaginary wall. Studies show that fifty percent of all Americans
wish they lived someplace else; however, this percentage decreases greatly when polling only
Manhattan. I suspect there is a slight increase in this percentage when the focus is strictly the Upper
West Side neighborhood of Manhattan.

At this moment, I am standing on our dining room table, attempting to hang a chandelier from the ceiling.
A task I fully expect to fail at and would typically hire someone had it not been decided at 10 pm last
night that it’s required for our party this evening. If the chandelier is not installed and working, we’ll need
to place phone calls, cancelling the party. We don’t want to make phone calls. I have removed the
previous light, a curved hanging fixture that provided adequate light the past four years. Now, I’m feeding
the new wire through the top, holding the chandelier carefully. I don’t want to knock off any of the hanging
crystals I just spent my morning assembling. The chandelier is now loosely placed in the opening. I will
tighten, once the power has been tested. Standing back, I look up and notice the light is not centered
over the table. This is going to be a problem.

The invitation for our party reads HAPPY HOUR, but it really is just a dinner party for a few close friends.
After much discussion, Sara and I felt dinner party sounded old and boring; happy hour insinuates good
times and catching up with those we were once close to. It also means cocktails will be served. One
couple, Josh and Katherine, have twelve and five year-old daughters. Beatrice, a friend of Sara’s from
college, has already been married and divorced. Not sure old and boring can be avoided. I don’t know.
Essentially we will be sitting down to a catered dinner from an Italian restaurant a block from our
apartment. We are hosting a dinner party disguised as a happy hour. There will be many cocktails.

I turn on the power then jump up back onto the table to connect the chandelier wire to the power input in
the ceiling. As I move my hand into the ceiling, I think about how I wired the lamp, and for a moment am
proud I was able to accomplish this task. It takes approximately two seconds for the wires to touch and
cause Fourth of July raining down on me, knocking me on my back, spread out on the table. The
chandelier comes crashing down; most of the crystals have fallen off. The wires were crossed. As
expected, I have failed and will need to start over. Putting the crystals back into place I know the light not
centered over the table is going to be a problem.

Years ago, when living downtown, Sara and I would stay up all night talking about the future. This week
we spent three days not talking because I said the couch in the living room made it look like we were
trying too hard.
Author Bio
David S. Grant
David S. Grant was born in West Allis, WI. He is the author of novels Corporate Porn, The Last Breakfast,
Bleach-Blackout, Hollywood Ending, and short story collection, Emotionless Souls. David lives and works
in New York City.
is, WI. He is the author of novels Corporate Porn, The Last Breakfast,
Bleach-Blackout, Hollywood Ending, and short story collection, Emotionless Souls. David lives and works
in New York City.

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