Pretty Pink Pumps - aka "Detective Work at The Party"

In furtherance of my previous commentary on the (vaguely) endearing qualities of inebriated party peers, it must be mentioned that one of the more hilarious, albeit detrimental, elements to insobriety is the irrationality of intoxicated logic.

There was a moment at The Party when one of the party goers noticed her brand new, dynamic pink, handcrafted, $1,000+, platform peep toes had gone missing from where she had left them by the front door of the house at which The Party was happening.

It was a moment of panic. The ugly lights went on, Britney was silenced and startled guests were ordered by a militant Hostess to “find the pumps!” The pump-owner was, naturally, distraught, struggling to hold it together for the sake of keeping face and keeping her DiorShow intact. The ‘dynamic pink’ was an exceptionally rare release – had the peeps been stolen?

When the search of such clearly logical places for shoes to have been left – bedrooms, the dishwasher, the freezer, the dryer – produced no results, it was clear the shoes were not in the house at which The Party was happening. Party peers had rationalised looking in cereal boxes, the garbage, under the couch, in pot plants and through the broom closet and, astoundingly, to no avail.

The Hostess, in a huff, marched her fellow hostees out to scour the surrounding neighbourhood. They searched the park, wheelie-bins, parked cars and then – the neighbouring properties.
And THERE!

On the driveway of the neighbouring house! Strewn! Strewn, I tell you! With complete disregard for the exceptional rarity of a release of dynamic pink – were the peeps!

The flabbergasted Hostess drew the only logical conclusion available to an imbiber of more than several alcoholic beverages:

- The neighbours had stolen the shoes.

The Hostess marched up to the door of the dark, silent, and still neighbouring house and pounded on the door. Pounded and thumped and thwacked and walloped until a groggy, middle-aged (dare I add – terribly unkempt) man opened the door.

“You stole the peeps!” The Hostess accused, her hostees cowering behind her.

The unkempt man mumbled something along the lines of not knowing what she was raving about.

“One of OUR guests had HER $1,000+ dynamic pink pumps STOLEN from our HOUSE and they are in YOUR front driveway! Any IDEAS how they got THERE?”

As a witness, I must assure you, the Hostess was terrifying in her detective work.

The unkempt man proceeded to get a little rowdy with some throw away lines about not being particularly interested in dynamic pink pumps as they weren’t his colour.

Not his colour! Dynamic pink is everyone’s colour!

“So would you have stolen the shoes if they WEREN’T dynamic pink?” demanded the Hostess/interrogator. “What if they were BABY pink! Or BRIGHT pink or PURPLEY PINK!”

“Well, yes maybe purple pink,” the unkempt man responded.

“AHA! So you ARE interested in shoes then? So you DID steal the pumps from OUR PARTY!!!” the Hostess raged.

“No, I told you, pink is not my colour.”

It was clear it would take a lot more than a fuming Hostess to extract a confession from this midnight liar.

To support her Hostess, one of the fellow Hostees interjected:-

“Do you have a cat?”

More excellent, logical, inebriated detective work.

“No,” answered the unkempt man, puzzled. We were all a little puzzled.

Then from behind us we heard: - meeoooow and a silver Persian cat, with more hair than in Paris Hilton’s extension collection, sauntered past us to twirl around the unkempt man’s legs and nestle by his awfully olive slippers.

“THAT CAT!”

And that was it – this was better than a confession – he had lied about having a cat therefore he had LIED ABOUT THE PEEPS!!

“Don’t you think it POSSIBLE!” spat the revved-up Hostess, “That this CAT that you APPARENTLY don’t own could have FETCHED the shoes! YOU are still responsible for THAT! YOU can’t just have a CAT and then LIE about it and then lie about it AGAIN when your CAT fetches shoes from other people’s PARTIES!”

The puzzle solved, with a pirouette the pleased Hostess returned to The Party, the peeps recovered, and an excellent play of drunk logic to cringe over the next day.

post script

For those cat lovers out there - the Hostess has now been corrected and understands that it is dogs that fetch things, not domestic pets as a general category.

The unkempt man was the recipient of a large box of Roses the following day.

The Hostess had a two-day swelling and five day bruise on her door-knocking hand.