The floor of The Anaya Family hall shone brightly as polished oak should. It was a far cry from the normal layer of dust that covered it when such events were held.  Andrew had learned his parents’ travel schedule and knew that with them being three capitals away, this place was as good as his throughout his college tenure.

“No one ever died from a little party,” Andrew’s brother had said before chugging down a keg like a beached whale drank from the sea. Andrew shrugged as the words came back to him. His brother had probably never considered that one could die of boredom at the right or rather wrong kind of party. The problems had started when a fight broke out on the stage. Apparently the DJ had been dating one of the girls on campus. He hadn’t told her he’d be the one performing there today hoping he could surprise her.

Instead, she’d surprised him when he saw her at the house. This wouldn’t have been a big problem had her lips not been locked onto someone else’s mouth.  The fight between DJ Heartbreak and the wrong-time, wrong-place Romeo had resulted in the Dj’s Tooth breaking. He was still washing his mouth. His girlfriend, Sandra, was at his side offering help he wanted no part of.

The mood inside was at a nadir. It was bad enough that it had rained that night, now this. Some had already slunk back to the dorm.

Andrew was going to tell the MC to just prepare to pack when he heard a commotion at the back.

“It’s okay guys I got this,” said a voice as it pushed through.

He was the height of a tall fridge and as wide as one too. He was in a golden, full-body suit with red gloves, boots and spandex on top of his pants.  Two mugs clinking together were emblazoned on his chest. A hood covered his head as he climbed the podium.

“The hell are you supposed to be?”  The frustrated MC asked.

The figure took of his cloak to reveal his face, “I am Barman, the saviour of the party people, with my power of kegger refills I ensure that the glasses are always full and the mood is never dull.”

A second figure was inspecting the turntable that had fallen in the melee, “That’s Beatboy,” He’ll give you that drum-cracking, thumping bass that keeps the you up all night until you’re dabbing in your sleep.” He pointed to the center of the hall; two girls in blue, skintight Levi’s and black Louboutin’s were ruffling up their hair. “Those are the dancehall gig girls. They’ll tear this place down with moves you could only dream of until today.”  One instantly did a split.

“Now kick back and relax we got this.” He raised his hands and the cups began to fill with alcohol to cheers from the remaining crowd. Some of the people outside even began to stream in.

Two hours later the lackluster gathering was a headbanger’s paradise. “Bartender my drink is running out!” someone yelled.  Barman was on it in a flash, getting it back to half full before he took his final sip.”

“You are just the best. I didn’t know I even needed someone like you in my life,” said the reveler.

Barman smiled, “I’m not the hero that you need man, I’m the hero that you want.”

 

 

One thought on “The Hero We Want

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