A Party Called My Party - by Elliot Rodger and his spellchecker

October 24th, 2016 by Diana Coman

Despite not only reading but actually counting all1 of the truly tragic2 sentences  that Elliot and his only-friend-who-still-betrayed-him, the spellchecker3, somehow managed to write (of sorts), it turns out upon closer investigation that Mircea Popescu might have still missed a few. Or a lot. Some. Sentences, I mean. Enfin, it must be the tall blonde ones4 who cruelly and unfairly rejected the exquisite gentleman called Elliot Rodgers:

I was approaching 20 and I felt nothing but dread. Putting myself out there every day at the classes and every evening in the streets of Isla Vista hadn't worked. Life is truly so, so unfair. I was still as lonely as ever and I had no girlfriend. Desperately, one night when Daniel came back with the vodka I had asked him to buy for me, I blurted out somehow that my teenager years are almost over and I have no girlfriend to call My Girlfriend. It was the sort of thing I wouldn't have told those hispanic brutes that lived in my flat before, but Daniel was more mature and we had shared already a few shots of my vodka. To my surprise, he seemed to listen sympathetically and then suggested I should give a party. I hated the idea of a party at which everyone could see that I have no girlfriend and girls don't like me. My social anxiety thing would also be on display and I hated that too. Boys would be all over the pretty girls and the prettiest girls would be all under the ugliest brutes and that was unbearable to even think about. But Daniel persuaded me that evening that a party *!!*I*!!* give will be entirely different. And that is right and proper as it should be, as it would be My Party.

The idea to give a party was my greatest idea really and the fact that it turned out so badly only goes to show how cruel and mean women are. I was still giving them a chance at that time though and so I set out once again to build my hopes up. I prepared for that party with all my energy as I felt it was my true and only chance to finally enjoy teenage sex. I had no idea how to actually give a party, but Daniel was very helpful with that. The only thing was that it seemed money was needed and even more than I had otherwise saved from the additional allocation that my parents were sending me since I moved to Isla Vista.

Determined to not let this opportunity pass, I called my mother and my father in turn and I begged them to give me free credit to throw my own party seeing how I was about to turn 20 anyway and I knew there would not be any full-blown party at home as Soumaya and father would be away. After much arguing and pleading they finally agreed.

Having obtained all the money I needed, I could in turn tell Daniel to go ahead with the gritty details of organizing the party, as I will pay for it. He suggested I should rent out a function room and I agreed as then I would be able to welcome my guests as a true master. I left the organizing work to Daniel as it wasn't in any way befitting for me to do it. It also made me feel already better about myself as I would just give him my orders every morning and sometimes at evening or during the day, he would listen attentively and then he would go and carry them out. Relieved thus from the lower-level chores, I focused instead on making sure that the party would truly be a success. I spent all my waking hours on imagining the success it would be, how the prettiest girls would finally give me their love since I was the host of such a magnificent party. How they would look at me in wonder and awe, how I would certainly have by the end of this party a girlfriend next to me. In my mind's eye I saw myself already at the top of the marble stairs I had instructed Daniel to find, welcoming my guests and being the object of envy of everyone. It was to be a truly exquisite party like no other and it would mark the end of my torture as a virgin teenager. I decided to call this party The Party of My Life as it was so fitting.

There weren't many days until I turned 20 and so I rushed Daniel on at all costs, since this was such an important matter. The evening of the party I got dressed in my most expensive jeans and shirt that clearly showed that I was the most superior gentleman there. And then I drove my BMW to the address Daniel had given me, aiming to arrive a bit late so that everyone would certainly notice my entrance and be in awe when they finally saw me. As I got out of my BMW, I saw the most beautiful tall blonde girl who was going in together with a group of friends and I took that to be a good sign, as there didn't seem to be any brutish boyfriend near her. As I walked into the building, I felt my anxiety rising and I almost stumbled, but I5 reminded myself that this was truly the day when all my worries will end and my happy real life will finally begin.

When I entered the function room of my party, I had to stop and let my eyes adjust as it was rather dark and full of smoke. Daniel came to me almost immediately and took me by the arm in a way that I found to be a bit unfitting seeing how I was the master and he was way below me, but I let it go at that time. I had more important things to focus on, as I was still searching for the marble stairs. I tried to ask Daniel where they were, but he probably did not hear me as the music was so loud and so I just followed him as he was dragging me towards a sort of stage around which everyone seemed to dance or move of sorts. He gave me a full glass too and waited for me while I drank it. I drank it quickly as alcohol had always helped me in social situations and he promptly found from somewhere another full glass to place in my hand. I also noticed that there was truly exquisite food on one side of the room: there was ham and salami and even sausages that looked as exceptional as I had ever seen. There wasn't time to taste them though, as Daniel then dragged me onto a small circular stage and pushed me forwards while shouting above the music and the noise "I give you our host!"

I felt my anxiety rising a notch as everyone looked at me, but I immediately felt better when they seemed to cheer and when I noticed that they actually looked up to me as the stage had risen significantly above the floor. Although it wasn't marble as I had instructed Daniel, I had to admit it wasn't a bad idea to have this raised stage thing. I drank what I still had in my glass and tried to guess which one of the beautiful, tall, blond girls would be My Girlfriend by the end of tonight. I literally had the world at my feet that night and that was how The Party of My Life was meant to be.

Then the music that had stopped for a second started again and everyone started dancing just like they were before. From my raised stage I could see everyone quite clearly, despite the smoke and the colored lights that jumped about like mad. And as I looked through the crowd, I suddenly saw this gorgeous tall blond girl who looked absolutely perfect. But she wasn't looking at me and so I had no choice than to keep looking as a brutish hispanic pig came and grabbed her tight under the pretense of a sort of dance, while she giggled. How could she not even notice the sight of a gentleman such as myself and giggle instead so stupidly at being dragged about in the crow6 by that brute! I was getting so enraged that I would have drenched them all in the alcohol in my glass, but I had drank it all already, I would have peed on them but I had an erection already and I would have run to kick them all but the stage had gotten so high by now that I saw no safe way to get down from it without breaking my legs.

Luckily, Daniel must have seen my hard rage and he came to me. He had two beautiful tall blond girls following him, as scantily clad as most others and I was about to get really angry with him, but he gave me another full glass and then he helped the girls climb up on the stage next to me. Just as they climbed, he introduced the girls to me as Candy and Sandy. The girls actually smiled at me with a happy look in their eyes as if they had forgotten him entirely and I felt truly vindicated and sure now that My Party was indeed the success I had always known it would be. But then, precisely then, at that highest point of my own party, I was once again betrayed by the cruel beasts that women are. For the two girls did a most horrible thing that I don't think I'll ever forget and surely not forgive. While one just took her blouse off with a sudden move that left her breasts quivering, the other one got down on her knees and did an unspeakable thing to me. At the same time, Daniel shouted again above the noise and the crowd: "I give you our host losing his virginity at nearly 20" and they cheered even louder than before.

To think I had thought both those girls (let alone just one of them) worthy of my love! And to have them so cruelly mistreat me again, doing all those horrible things to me while I was petrified up on the stage and with all my social anxiety on show for everyone to see. I felt rage building up inside me but my glass was again empty and I found I could not move as they were now both holding me quite strongly and throwing my Armani shirt, my expensive jeans and my Hugo Boss underwear to the cheering crowd below who soon started dancing again. I've never been so humiliated in my whole life. The Party of My Life was turning out to be yet another chance that the world was missing to put things right and give me the life of pleasure I had always deserved.

Poor, tragic Elliot. Spare a thought for him this Halloween, for I heard he ended up really badly at the hands of his own friend, James. Who might have been - or maybe not - the spellchecker himself!

  1. 6656! 

  2. From a semantic and occasionally grammatical point of view. 

  3. That fucking pig of a friend stabbed him in the metaphorical back as it made his own lunch - writing for instance "home" instead of "hope" and "afriend ship" instead of "a friendship" - of Elliot's last words. I mean: of his Last Words! 

  4. Not that they (or it) make(s) any difference in this cruel world of unfairness and doom. 

  5. Good God, are there enough "I" in there for Elliot prose? My own I feels exhausted already. 

  6. Pig, I tell you. 

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