The most intriguing part about the
“Unicorn vs. Narwhal Fight
to the Death Party” (aside from the name, of course) is the
possibility of bodily harm. Attendees fashion homemade horns out
of anything they wish (foam, papier-mâché, dildos)
and attach them to their foreheads. Some are long and domineering;
others are short, but sharp and dangerous. Coupled with heavy drinking,
it seems that someone is going to get an eye poked out.
In the giant garage, where rock bands are playing, there’s the
greatest refrigerator in the history of ever. It’s just like in the Dr.
Dre video—fridge and freezer completely packed with forties,
84 of them. It’s enough to bring a tear to your eye. I think to
myself, “Now all this party needs is some condoms!” Outside on the
lawn, partyers swing blindly at a unicorn piñata with a big
stick. When it explodes, candy and condoms rain down from the
sky.
Around 1:00 a.m. the cops come and tell the bands to shut up. The
party congregates inside, where a pretty girl in a pink wig is dancing
on top of a table covered in candy, crayons, and pictures of unicorns.
A man drinks the best juice box ever—a box of Franzia with
a giant straw in it. This party is like childhood imagination and
grown-up fantasies dry-humping on top of a rainbow. In the end,
no one gets his eye poked out, and it’s not even a disappointment.
Want to chastise The Stranger for holding up the bathroom
line? Well, swamp-ass can’t be relieved on the side of the house.
E-mail the date, place, time, and party details to partycrasher@thestranger.com.