It's Easter Sunday and the front lawn features two Peeps-pink horses on springs for guests to ride. Jesus Christ, his crown of thorns bobbing cheerily, is dancing in the living room with a woman wearing a skintight flesh-colored bodysuit. Some ladies take a swing on the built-in stripper pole. One of the partyers gets a lap dance from the hostess, her giant feathered headdress swaying all across the living room, making the whole thing seem like the kind of pagan ritual that Easter started out as.
Things get really weird really fast: The hostess and her posse head upstairs to change from their diaphanous Easter dresses into leather dominatrix gear. "We're tired of being good bunnies—it's time to let the bad bunnies out," someone says. A partyer grabs a whip off one of the leather girls and goes out front to whip the hell out of the ponies. Two women, for no reason whatsoever, begin making out with a mannequin. One of the dominatrices puts on a fake beard, a crown of thorns, and a toga and becomes New Jesus.
Then the Furries show up—people dressed in furry, primary-colored outfits kind of like Teletubbies, but with a lot more groping. Then one of my Plus Ones puts on a mesh shirt that just happens to be lying around, and then someone hands me a drink that has God knows what in it and then I black out and fall off the porch into a feisty shrub and get a slice taken out of my arm that would probably, on any other occasion, require stitches. This is clearly the greatest party in the history of the universe.
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