Green Eyes

The Gizmos, Phil and Stan, who were homosexual life partners, always had a Halloween themed party on New Years Eve because they thought it was cute and quirky. They had turnip themed parties on the American Thanksgiving Day, pool parties when it snowed, and they had Saturday Night Fever parties every Monday. The Gizmos were definitely odd but quite popular- because it was widely believed that it's good to have a friend who has parties.

Unfortunately, for the Gizmos, party friends were not real friends and popularity was not love (except on Facebook). So, when they weren't having fabulously inappropriate parties Phil and Stan were actually quite lonely.

It was early on New Years Eve, 2009 when the strange black cat with a bald patch above his right ear wandered into the Gizmo's house. He purred loudly but nobody heard him over the musicians who were warming up their violas and irish horns on the coffee-table-stage.
The black cat walked inside, enjoying the irony as he loped under a ladder which had been used to hang long strings of skull-shaped lanterns along the beams of the grand entrance. He continued on until he reached the feet of Phil and Stan Gizmo where they stood in the kitchen, doing a last-minute checklist for this, their perfect party.
The cat attracted attention with a quick flick of his wiry black tail on Stan's bare calf.
"Oooh! Ow! Oh, there you are Prudentil! Phil, Phil he made it!"
"Oh, excellent! How was Vegas?" Phil asked.
"You know," Prudentil purred. "Same old, same old... Sluts and slots. So, what's the plan here gentlemen? Are we going to have a very scary New Year?"
"Yes, Prudentil," Phil nodded curtly. "Just as we discussed."
"We've plated our hors d'oeurves and chilled the punch, we've got strings and horns in the foyer, we've got fabulous decorations, and now we have you!" Stan giggled. "It's good to see you old friend."
"It's going to be marvellous," Phil smiled. "Twelve o'clock sharp, Prudentil. Is there anything you need?"
"Yes." Prudentil's green eyes narrowed. "Leave the ladder in the entrance hall, just where it is."

Prudentil, who had been an associate of the boys since they had hired him to resolve a very big Sum-inter Party scandal in Autumn last year, was a specialist in karma. Phil and Stan hired him back then to give a reading on their caterer whom, they believed, had deliberately sabotaged their summer berry snow-cones just to ruin their party. Prudentil had a special sense and skill when it came to karma. He could sense when good karma was oweing and, just the same, he could sense when bad karma was overdue. He also had special skills in handing out due punishment. The boys had hired him tonight as a professional. They thought it was time to weed out the users. "True friends only!" They had said. 12a.m. was judgement hour.

Later in the night, as guests filed in with their "plus ones" plus a couple of others, Prudentil began to stalk. He walked slowly around the party, feeling, listening, smelling, sensing the vibe of this house full of costumed men and women. There were butterflies and ladybugs, pirates and prostitutes, there was a beer keg and a tampon- but of all the shocking costumes there was one to which Prudentil was inexplicable drawn. The man in the giant VB stubby suit stood, alone, in the corner of the grand foyer. He probably would have liked to sit but, in the confines of his costume, he stood sipping at a can of VB, bottle cap hat perched proudly atop his head. Prudentil was intrigued. None of the other guests had brought beverages, knowing that the Gizmo’s would provide. Mr. VB was standing, sipping, and he seemed to be watching his hosts as they moved about their fabulous party, as if he wanted to speak to them.

“Hm.” Prudentil purred. “A friend, I wonder?”

Mr. VB apparently saw his chance to approach the two men at about 11:15 p.m. He shuffled forward, in his awkward brown bottle suit, and called out to Phil. Prudentil followed, keen to watch.
“Phil! Phil!”
“Well if it isn’t…” Phil looked Mr. VB up and down with his nose high in the air, as though it were suspended by the hold of a puppeteer. “What are you doing here and what on Earth are you wearing? Pauly, I thought we had discussed this. You mustn’t just show up to my private soiree’s. I’m sorry Stan, I’ll be right with you-”
“I know, I know-” Pauly interrupted before Phil could usher Stan away. “I’m real sorry, Phil. It’s just that… Fark, I saw it on Facebook and I, I had to talk to you, ay. It’s mum. She’s real sick, Phil. It’s for real this time. She don’t do nufin’ but drink that special tea you got her that Christmas. And sleep. She sleeps all bloody day sometimes. I really fink she misses ya Phil. I try to do what I can, but, she just wants you.”

“Ahh,” Prudentil hummed to himself. “Bogans! Perhaps a whole family of them. My, my…”

Now, Phil had, in effect, disowned his family about seven years prior. Right after a weekend trip to Toorak in Victoria, (which he won in CLEO magazine’s “Pride and Prejudice” special edition competition) Phil had adopted an entirely new life for himself and had left his family behind. He immediately stopped visiting his family, stopped returning their phone calls, he hadn’t even invited his parents to his commitment ceremony in 2004. But Phil hadn’t counted on the stalker-friendly capabilities of the modern day internet to burst his precious bubble of isolation.

Stan, ever-friendly and opposed to dramatics, stepped forward now, nervously extending his hand in front of him. “Pauly I presume?” He asked. “I’m Stan, it’s so very nice to meet you, finally.”
“Nice to meet you, Stan. And, uh, congratulations! I know the ceremony was a couple years ago now but I been waiting to say it, ay?”
“Thank you, Pauly- and thank you so much for our commitment present. Bundaberg Rum is certainly something I had been wanting to try.”
“I reckon Bundy’s something e’rybody should try once or twice, ay. I’m sorry ta intrude here, Stan. I don’t wanna be stickin’ my face where it don’t belong, and this seems like a really wicked party but I didn’t know how else to get to my brother.”
“Well, I’m glad you stopped by, Pauly.” Stan smiled. “Stay as long as you like. Oop- I'm off to refill the punch!”
“Pauly, I’m, I’m sorry about Mum,” Phil began. “But, this is my life now. Don’t you see? You’re-” Phil leaned closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. “You’re different, Pauly- we’re just different. I’m not the same as you and Mum and Dad, and Shaz, poor little dot. I can’t go back to that. Besides, that herbal tea is really pretty good for Mum, she’ll be right.”

“Hm,” Prudentil purred, judging carefully. “Almost… perfectly…”

“Maybe you’re right, Phil.” Pauly said, uncomfortable. “But she really misses ya. Talks about you all the time. Just, Phil, we just want you ta know that you can come home whenever you want, ya know? We all just miss ya. Mum’d be really proud of all this, ay?” Pauly moved his long, bony hand around the room filled with fake decadence and cheerful Halloween-themed paraphernalia. “I reckon she’d be real proud…” And with that, Pauly generously pushed the remainder of his 6-pack into his brother’s hands. “Happy New Year, Phil.” He turned stiffly and shuffled away in his VB bottle-suit.

Stan returned in time to see the young bottle leave. “Well, he certainly went to a lot of trouble to get dressed up didn’t he hun’?”
Phil grunted.
Stan continued. “You know, I never wanted to ask but I’ve always wondered- Why don’t you see your family? It’s quite clear they love you… Sometimes you don’t have forever to come around. You know?”
“Oh Stan,” Phil cried. “Don’t you know I’ve tried to protect you from them? They’re all bogans! Horrible, terrible, undignified, bogans. You’re so much more than that, and now, I’m so much more than that.”
Stan smiled kindly. “Phil… When you’re not around I wear my hoody around the house.”
“You, what! Stan! I never knew!”
“That’s right, I like hoodies, they’re comfortable. And I like VB, and I really did like the Bundy your brother gave us. On Sunday’s I drive around the block in town- with my music up loud and my windows down. Because it feels good! Sometimes I like to swear because four letters will satisfactorily express how I’m feeling. And, fuck it, Phil- it feels good. So maybe I’m a bogan, Phil. I think that, perhaps, there’s a little bit of bogan in all of us.”
“No!” Gasped Phil. “I never knew,” He said again. “Bogans…” He was utterly bewildered. “You’re really okay with bogans?”
“You’ve got a pretty thick head, Phil Gizmo.” But at that moment the New Year’s countdown began and Stan’s voice was swept away in the noise.

Prudentil, head cocked to one side as he listened intently, smiled slowly as the grandfather clock in the next room chimed cheerily.

12 o’clock.

Quietly, with adept and padded paws, Prudentil scaled the ladder in the giant entrance hall. Before the final chime of the clock had sounded he opened his mouth wide and yawned- and as his eyes crinkled and unfolded the entire Gizmo home was filled with an incredible green light- exposed in the light of this karma cat’s judgemental eyes every guest stood, mid-celebration, frozen in place. When the party guest’s eyes began to adjust to the light they saw that, apparently, karma had kicked them in the ass.

Half of the Gizmo’s guests were standing, naked, with a large Blundstone boot protruding from their rear end. Cries of pain, shock, and embarassment rippled around the room but, despite the state of their own ends, as the green light faded back to white, all eyes turned to the strange lump at the front of the room standing underneath the wooden ladder.
“Phil!” Stan cried. “Phil, is that you!?”
But the gigantic pink mass could not reply. For it did not have a mouth.
“Prudentil! Oh, Prudentil, what have you done?!”

The cat creased his green eyes kindly. “Dear friend, I have done just as your husband requested. I have seen that my judgement has resulted in due punishment. Your guests have received a warning boot up the bum for their ignorance and vanity… But Phil… After years of warning, Phil couldn’t understand a simple rule, Sir: He who lives with a soul unclean will eventually fall victim to that oily build up beneath the skin, known to you as karma. This is the long-overdue zit of Phil’s dirty mind- and I don’t mean that in the sexy way. Good day to you, Stan.”

Three days later Phil came to a head and popped.

Four days later Stan found comfort in the arms of Pauly.





Green Eyes