First, Dylan eats his friend's vas deferens. It is a small brown streak on a sheet of white paper. Dylan is not wearing a shirt. There is blood smeared down his chin and torso. "It used to be like four times bigger when it was wet," informs his friend. Dylan licks the paper clean.

This is a cannibalism party, a Donner Party. There is an overturned fridge full of bloody, ice-encrusted bones—those who did not survive the winter. "Man burgers" fry on the barbecue. No one has really touched the tofu baby. There is a bowl of green brains. Small children are silhouetted in the windows of the house next door, undoubtedly confused.

In a creepy, spider-web-infested shed, people are getting large metal hooks pierced through their backs. Outside the shed is a large metal scaffolding for human suspensions. Several people take turns flying around in small circles, hanging from their shoulder flesh. Lina, the "Queen of Spears," gets six metal skewers pierced through her neck, and one through her cheeks. Dylan holds her hand and I focus on giving off good energy; he says she'll feel it if we emit negativity. One by one the metal skewers penetrate the skin on her neck and fight to make it out the other side. I can feel the tension release from her body like a wave as the sharp metal tips finally break through. The energy in the spider shed is unreal. Ashamedly, I confess to them that I feel like a voyeur. They respond: "Voyeurism is participating." JEFF KIRBY

Want to make The Stranger think they've got AIDS blood all over their hand at your party? E-mail the date, place, time, and party details to partycrasher@ thestranger.com

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