Jason and Butthead had hid in the second floor bathroom when they saw Leah coming up the stairs. She disappeared in one of the bedrooms, though, and apparently didn’t notice the two coiled ropes wrapped around the banister and snaking across the ground and under the bathroom door.
 
Leah wasn’t very smart.

The lights blinked out a minute later. Leah shrieked and so did the fifty or so girls on the first floor. Jason and Butthead laughed and threw open the bathroom door, their sounds masked by the cries of all the girls. They found the banister in the dark, climbed on top still laughing, and launched their bodies over the edge…

Then something went wrong. Butthead felt himself slip right through the rope tied so tightly around his waist. But he didn’t hit the table nor break any bones. Rather, he landed in a cold rush of water. Drowning, he thrashed his arms against the waves. The water was sweet and fruity, like something of a tropical paradise, but he felt his lungs doing knots and quickly swam to the surface. He came up, coughing and gagging, and floated in the dark, calling out for Jason.

Then the lights came back on. Butthead looked around, his eyes rapidly adjusting to the sudden light, and found himself swimming in a glass bowl of red mist. It wasn’t until he looked over the edge of the glass, beyond the horizon, that he realized it was the punch bowl sitting on the refreshment table. And now he was treading water in it.

Jason was nowhere in sight. Butthead cried out to him again and maybe a little to his mommy, but the chatter of female voices and music were playing again and drowned out his calls. He tried twice to swim to the glassy side of the bowl, but both times he was dragged back towards the middle as the tiny waves of his own weight tossed him about.

Meanwhile, Leah had come down the stairs and, after lingering by the doorway for a moment, made her way towards him. He stared up at her growing figure, the butterfly wings strapped to her back making her look like the most terrible of cute beasts, and then heard Christie’s voice from behind. He winced. That voice. How he hated it.

He looked the other way to see her, his ex, dressed as a pirate and strutting towards him. And then he realized neither of them were coming for him. They didn’t know he was crashing the party. He was just there, a boy in the punch bowl, a fly on the wall, completely off their radar, and directly in the spot where Christie and Leah bumped into each other. He floated practically on his back, gazing up at them in wonder.

“Get the camera?” Christie’s voice thundered from above.

Leah held up the camera in her left hand. “Yeah, where’s the cross-dresser?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he got a clue and took a flying leap out of here.”

“Yeah,” Leah laughed. Her eyes wandered over to the two ropes, each with a noose on the end, dangling over the refreshment table. “Those are odd decorations. You plan on havin’ a hangin’, pirate girl?”

“Hmm, I don’t remember putting those there… But I sure would love to hang Jason from one of them.”

“Oh,yeah… Any sign of him yet?”

“Not yet,” Christie answered, looking down at the punch bowl. She idly grabbed a ladle and swished around the red punch, her mind elsewhere.

Butthead was caught in the angry whirlpool she was creating. He tried to fight the current, but Christie’s swift motions, however languid they may have been, were enough to keep him from escaping the waters. He went under once. Twice. Thrice. Each time he would be sucked into the swirling vortex, a gush of fruity punch bursting through his senses, and then he would surface again. The metal ladle, looming dangerously close to him, circled him like a hungry shark. And it was Christie’s hand that was pulling all the strings, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Punch?” she said absentmindedly to Leah, pushing the ladle under the sugary water.

Butthead was taken in by the force, his body banging against the scoop’s handle. He fought again to escape the rush of the waves, but when Christie brought up the ladle, he was trapped within its metal walls. She lifted him into the air.
 
Fortunately, it wasn’t as hard to reach the sides of the ladle as it was the bowl, so he doggy-paddled over and latched onto the edge. The ladle began to tilt. He was looking straight down into a plastic cup being held up by Christie’s other hand. A red waterfall began to pour around him. It washed over his body and tried to heave him over.

Crying out, Butthead let go of the metal edge and sank to the bottom of the ladle, only to be brought up again and carried back towards the dip. Right before he was hurled over the waterfall, though, Christie tipped the ladle back to its upright position. He was thrown back. Sighing in relief, he felt the near-empty ladle sinking back into the punch bowl. He was safe.

“Sure,” Leah answered.

Butthead looked up to see the open ceiling of the ladle suddenly become reddened by a flood of punch from all sides. He was forced under once more as Christie lifted the scoop, held another plastic cup over its brim, and pulled the entirety into the cup. This time, Butthead wasn’t so lucky. He fell headfirst into the plastic cup, followed by enough furious red punch to push him to the unfriendly bottom of the plastic prison.

Then he was transferred from Christie’s hand to Leah’s. He struggled to pull himself over the plastic edge, but his clothes were soaked and Leah’s hand was too shaky from the drumming of her pinky against the cup. Every time he managed to straddle himself to the brim, her finger would thump against the bottom of the cup, throwing him back into the red mist. But it didn’t last long. She soon held the cup to her lips, opening the cavern of her mouth, and chugged it all in one gulp. The red stream poured down her throat, Butthead helpless against its ever-flowing fury, and a small burp was all that remained to be had of either of them.

“Gross,” Christie laughed, suddenly breaking out of her daze.

Leah giggled too and wiped her red lips with her butterfly sleeve.

Jason had seen the whole thing. He had landed in a barrel full of water and floating green apples, one of which he had managed to climb onto like a raft. It was a bit tricky, keeping the apple from turning over the dumping him under, but he got it right by the time he saw his friend disappear into Leah’s gullet.

“…I never liked him anyway,” he said aloud, although he knew nobody could hear him. “Or her.” His eyes drifted over to Christie. “Or her. I hate you all! I will have my revenge, Christie!” He fell into the water and came up coughing.

“I wonder when he’ll make his move,” Leah said, but she didn’t sound too worried.

“Who cares?” Christie shrugged. “Jason’s a weenie. A big hollow weenie.”

“A hollow weenie?” Leah laughed.

“In many ways, my little butterfly. Now, come. Let’s enjoy my party.”

Unfortunately for Jason, that meant the start of games, the first of which was bobbing-for-apples. Christie and Leah each took a side of the barrel, carrying it into the living room. Jason tried to jump out with the water being spilled on the floor by the rather clumsy girls, but he, like Butthead, soon learned his vulnerability against the might of thrashing water. He was worse off, though, in that the apples began to slam together like fast-moving green icebergs and he was caught treading icy water in the midst of them.

But the barrel was eventually set down and the girls began to gather around. None, of course, noticed Jason inside, but the succulent apples looked most delicious to them all. They took turns bobbing for apples, each one dunking their heads next to Jason or sometimes on top of him, as he was often swept under the current only to find himself trapped under the cheek or forehead of one of the girls. He only tried once to get their attention, but the lighting in the room was so weak that the water looked black and only the bright green of the apples glittered in the dark.

Then it was Christie’s turn. She stepped up to the barrel, looking down at the sea of apples. Jason swam amongst them, immediately recognizing his ex-girlfriend towering above him. The last thing he wanted was her to find him, so he grabbed hold of the stem of the nearest apple and climbed onto its smooth green surface. There, he waited…

Which probably wasn’t too intelligent of the fool because that was the same apple Christie had her eyes on. And she went right for it, not giving Jason a chance to see her coming, as he felt the waves wash over him and Christie’s teeth, like those of Jaws, clamp down on both sides of him. White juices of the apple sprayed his face. The water poured out the sides of her lips as she lifted the apple, perfectly clenched between her teeth, out of the barrel. Jason stood, trapped on her tongue, the green wall keeping him from freedom. He threw his shoulder into it uselessly.

And then, from the back of Christie’s throat, he had a giggling laugh followed by a sharp whisper that was meant only for his ears. “I got you, bitch.”

Then her teeth sank into the apple and all went black.