Frank Sinatra in : "A bucket full of promises"

One day I threw a party for all my oldest enemies. My intention was to prove them that I was doing fine, so they had no reason to despise me anymore. Quite surprisingly, most of them were able to make it to the party. Some people had previous engagements and sent an apology note with some chocolates or a bottle of wine (I am very allergic to both). Much to my disappointment, Eric - a guy who used to pick on me in school and was now earning his life as a human piñata at children's parties - wasn't feeling very well and couldn't join us. (He had "accidentally" swallowed a deck of cards the day before.) Frank Sinatra came over too, a bit late as usual. He had hated me ever since the day that I had switched his microphone for an electric razor, causing him to unawarely shave his moustache while singing "Fly Me To The Moon". I was only willing to make peace with him.

I had set a cold buffet and some drinks on a table and put on some music. Everything went just fine. Everybody chatted gaily, and many of the guests began to dance. (Hanna impressed us with her repulsive "crutch dance".) Some people had gathered in a corner of the room, probably to give me the impression that they were conspiring against me, but I could hear them actually whispering about different types of brooms.

At some point I thought it was time to give a little speech :

- Good evening to everyone. I'm confident that we're all having a swell time. Watch out, don't let Martin eat all the cheese! (Martin was a hemophiliac friend of mine who, one day, for no reason, had suddenly stopped returning my calls - I found it was a good idea to lighten my speech with a little humour.) Now, seriously, I know some of you people don't like me, but I believe it's best to forgive - and move on. So what do you say? Are we friends or what?

A voice arose from the crowd. It was Lars, who had remained silent until then, staring in amazement at my collection of chicken bones. He yelled at me :

- Sorry, what did you say?

At this point everything went too fast and I was unable to follow it all. I felt as though anything could happen - for, all of a sudden, the Montalbán twins (whom I knew from high school - they disliked me because I wasn't two people) started to fight over who of them was Ingmar and who was Ingvar. They were punching each other's stomachs and emitting piercing shrieks while casting fierce looks at each other. Soon enough, Mona, a girl whom I had dated once for several months and dumped because she kept asking me for my ID everytime we met, started screaming : "This is not my nose! Take it away from me!"

Everything became more and confused. There were people shouting and running all over the place. I tried to put some order but somebody threw a fork at me (there was still a snail stuck to it). I think I must have passed out.

I awoke at 4 A.M. Everybody had left. As I went to bed I noticed someone had hidden a rubber spider under my pillow. I was quite satisfied with the way things had turned out at he party... but I never recovered my friendship with Frank Sinatra - I understand he's been doing pretty well these days. As for me, I still wander alone in the streets during my endless nights, crying for all that I have lost and asking every passerby if they know any good restaurant around.