Short Story: The Host

The Host


There was the CPA from France. He was lucky, he got there early and left early. There was the construction employee, and the guy who worked for the Eagles. They were not so lucky, nor was the fat women he took with him. The thing was, the ten other couples who contacted him about the party were no-shows. It wouldn’t have happened if that had not been the case. Even if the fat bitch had been willing to play, things might have ended differently for the evening.
How many times had he answered that one! For two months or something. The couples that backed out. Or the couples that simply contacted him and then never showed at all.
If you could figure out a way to appease the sexual frustration that single man have, you could make a buck. Strippers and hookers all knew this. But if the couples don’t play, then the single men get pissed off and leave.
The guy from Greece had bitched about the lack of women. So had they all, really. That one Latino guy had sat in the parking lot waiting for girls, and the host had come out and said “If you’re going to come in come in, but my neighbors are not going to like me having people loitering.”
He was not so lucky either.
The cover charge for single men was only 20 dollars, for women, free, for couples free.
The contractor and the guy who worked for the Eagles chatted in the kitchen area about the swinger’s club competition down in Philadelphia proper.
“It’s next to a place where there’s prostitution going on. It’s next to a strip club which is a cover for prostitution, where there’s prostitution going on in the club. Single guys can be charged 80 bucks. Most of their events are on the weekend so I can’t go during season. Most events are no single men, women and couples only. Friday night they put a cut off on single men after 100.”
“No”, corrected the host “they put a cut off on single men after 13 single men.”
The host walked into his closet, opened his gun safe and loaded his 9mm Baretta Cougar and walked back into the room.
“You all came here for cougars tonight? I’ve got a fucking Cougar for you.”
The host aimed and fired off a few rounds, killing each of the guests in the room.
He’d answered one too many e-mails from people asking stupid questions about the event not to rid the world of useless flesh like that.
“How many women will be there?”
The police would arrive any minute, so he had to place the 9mm in his mouth to avoid capture. That he did, and pulled the trigger.
Police really needed to search no further then his computer to get a sense of what he had done and what his reasons were. The cops made jokes about the fat bitch in the car.
“No wonder” said one officer to the other. They laughed, and drove off.