My Grumpy Billionaire

“It’s my job to know statistics.” I start walking inside, casually kicking aside a few more presents.

“Argh! Asshole!”

“Shouldn’t have sent a stripper to my school, Joey.” I stride away casually, feeling better. Joey deserves much worse, but it’s the best I can do without risking an arrest.

I march past four suits of armor and four alabaster horse heads, two on each side and lined up like mortal enemies ready to charge across the chessboard floor. Although I’m moving casually, my senses are on full alert in case Joey’s arranged for another, last-ditch-effort hooker. Joey’s mission in life is giving my father what he wants, and Dad hasn’t given up on grandbabies. Not yet, anyway.

Instead of wasting money on getting him a gift, I should’ve paid for a human biology lecture. That way he’d learn that nobody can create a newborn baby overnight.

Aside from some odious orgy murals on the ceiling, the inside of the mansion is tasteful enough. But when you have a sensible team of interior decorators and as much money as my father, it isn’t that difficult. The real test of Dad’s taste is the pool area. He tells Joey what he wants for his birthday bash three months ahead of time every year, and every year the party becomes more ridiculously outrageous.

Finally, I walk through the French doors that lead to the pool area. The mansion wraps around the pool in a U and tall hedges are on the fourth side, providing privacy. That’s why Dad feels comfortable letting go here. He’s forgotten about smart phones in the clutches of his guests, people desperate to film whatever they think is going to go viral and trying to post a clip before anybody else.

Loud shrieks and laughter pierce the air. I already want to cover my ears and pretend I’m anywhere but here.

Barely dressed people run around with the balloons tied to their bodies; a few have them tied to their heads. I realize that half the balloons are mouths and the other half are vaginas. All of them are covered in a disgusting white goo, which has the visual consistency and scent of…

…ejaculate?

Where did that come from?

I don’t have to wonder long. A guy in red and blue trunks whoops and slams a large, flesh-colored ball to my right. They’re connected to a huge shaft shaped like an erect penis that arcs over the partygoers. Syrupy white liquid shoots out of the tip, toward the balloon crowd. They run around, and I realize they’re trying to catch the goo on the balloons.

“Score one for Team V!” one of the girls on the side yells when a vagina balloon girl catches most of the goo. There are immediate cries of triumph and disappointment.

I sigh. Even though it was something of a gag gift, my brothers and I should’ve never given Dad a cock cannon for his birthday last year. Because now there are ten. And the extras didn’t come from us. Dad must have specially commissioned them.

Why me? Why, why, why do I have to have such an embarrassing father?

No sane person would have anything like this at a party. Or in his home. Or anywhere near them. Even the respect-buying Fulliloves probably have more dignity than this.

Not willing to suffer more of the spectacle, I take a pathway to the side. I’m not going to walk under the cocks and risk getting that disgusting, syrupy junk all over me.

“Hey, you’re supposed to smack the ball when you enter the party!” one of the girls yells.

“Yeah! That’s the rule,” a guy calls out.

I turn around slowly. “You gonna enforce it?”

I’m not here to linger and mingle. I’m here to show my face, so Dad will leave me alone for another year. I’m safe for Christmas because he prefers to have orgies in the Caribbean, and he doesn’t generally invite me or my brothers to those. Seeing his sons naked would be too much even for him.

“Uh…” The girl shrugs helplessly. “No?”

“Exactly.” I walk away, my head throbbing, and scan the crowd, looking for my brothers. I thought I saw Huxley’s and Noah’s cars outside, but they might not be here yet. I pull out my phone and start texting.

–Me: Hey, you at the party?

–Huxley: Yeah. I just got myself another drink.

–Noah: Can never get enough to get through this fiesta.

–Huxley: I’m going to drink all the good shit first.

–Me: Are we the first to arrive?

–Noah: Unfortunately. Next time, I’m going to sabotage the car the day before.

–Me: I was just thinking how car troubles would be a good excuse for skipping these things.