It's not often that I throw parties; I'm less than the consummate host. That said, when I take the time to send out invites and even create a lame Facebook event page, I have a certain expectation. I go shopping - nothing fancy: pizza, pop, chips, beer, liquor, mix, veggie tray. My plan is to take my digital projector out into the yard and do an outdoor film night. People seem to like it - kinda like a walk-in instead of a drive-in - lawnchairs a-plenty.
So when I look at the Weather Channel and see red flashing chromakey warning of thunderstorms, high winds, and 4cm hail, I start to wonder if my one annual bash has been cursed. I think that maybe I should've gone to church more often... well, even once. I ponder my relationship with Clotho, Lachesis and Antropos and what a wicked web they weave. I desperately search for some dusty 20-sided dice to see if I can make a saving throw against a wet backyard.
In the end, I guess I do what all impending party hosts do in my situation - I sacrifice a chicken in the middle of a pentagram in the laundry room and look up to the sky yelling "KHAN!"
