The Vomiting Little Person

You need some spare cash to rent out the upstairs bar at the club where I work, and plenty of it. $10,000 to be exact. That is how much it costs to rent the place out for a private function such as a birthday party. We get a lot of “industry” parties, (if you don’t know what I mean by “industry” I would like to shake your hand!)

We get a lot of plastic people who “host” their show off parties there, thus becoming a “promoter” for the evening and thereby throwing their ego’s around just like they throw their money around. Despite the obvious high society aspirations of the “host’s”, these types of event still end up attracting people who under normal circumstances would not be welcome. I’m talking about the friends of a friend’s sister’s cousin type people who somehow either mysteriously appear on the guest list or tag along as the “+1” that the “host” felt obligated to put on the invitation. This is not to say that all these people are bad guests, most of the time they are better behaved and nicer than the fuckin’ egomaniacs that are there just to be seen, but oftentimes it is painfully obvious that these people do not get out much, if at all. Such was the case with ‘The Puking Midget.’

The event was a combination birthday/ cd release party for some no name girly group. Most of the people were friendly enough, except the “promoter” who was a wanker. Lights too bright, lights too low, not that one this one, it’s too stuffy in here etc. etc.
The crowd of about 300 was behaving itself, no fights, no one giving any lip, everybody enjoying themselves. The DJ was shite, he wasn’t so much a DJ really, more like a guy who played records, mostly those released by Lil John. I’m digressing here…

I had to look several times to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. I wasn’t quite sure, I kept getting glimpses through the crowd on the dance floor, but finally I got a clear look and I had been right. Somebody had let a fuckin’ kid in here! It was supposed to be 21 and over and those bastards on the front door had let a child in! No doubt the parents had greased their palms with a c-note. Surely it would have been cheaper to hire a child minder for the evening? Well, as long as the little bastard wasn’t drinking I wasn’t going to fuck with them. I moved over to where their table was and was horrified to see the child knocking back champagne, from the bottle no less. I was about to intervene when I noticed with horror (and morbid fascination), that it wasn’t a kid at all. It was a woman!!! A fully grown (estimated) 3 foot 8 inch woman!!! The odd thing was, she did not have the features usually associated with little people. Big peanut shaped head, stubby little arms and legs. Her body and features were perfectly proportioned to her size. This was a little confusing as she wasn’t bad looking, but was too short for even a stand up blow job. I was fascinated and decided to stick around for a while to observe her habits.

She had a camera and was taking pictures of everyone, probably even me. I would give a fuckin’ fortune to see those pictures. Tons of snaps of peoples mid sections or of faces taken at such a steep angle that you would be able to see right up their nostrils. Priceless.

She was hitting the booze pretty hard, the champagne had been replaced by a bottle of Grey Goose and she was drinking it neat. It was time for a dance….. She was like a Tasmanian devil, a little whirling dervish, darting around the dance floor and humping folks’ legs like she was a Jack Russell. She was a treat to watch, cutting a mean rug and tearing up the floor like nobody’s business. Several big people had to go and sit down after straining their backs trying to get down low and bump and grind with her.

It was inevitable. It had to happen sooner or later. Her tiny system could take no more. The mixture of booze, the dancing, the heat…. I saw her tiny cheeks bulge and watched as she scampered between people’s legs, making a beeline for her table. She reached up, grabbed the ice bucket and puked up her tiny ringpiece. Sadly, I would have to throw her out, house rules. Ironically, I could have literally “thrown” her out, as in picked her up and launched her into the street but unfortunately, here in California, many people have no sense of humour and a lawsuit would no doubt have followed, so instead I politely let the big people she was with know they would have to take her home. They obliged, all apologies and smiles and left.

Closer examination of the ice bucket afterwards revealed perfectly proportioned tiny carrots and what appeared to be straw mushrooms. We couldn’t be sure.