So, here's what happened
"Maybe I shouldn't have done it, and honestly I can not even say why I did. Perhaps it was too much rum and eggnog, maybe the multiple glasses of wine or the numerous shots of tequila, really it could have been anything. However, I wouldn't have done it, had I known their dog Farrah Pawcett, I swear that is what they named her, was going to jump on me. Because apparently I’m allergic to this four legged wonder, which caused me to sneeze violently, and unfortunetly, directly into Mrs. Krantz's face who WAY over reacted by throwing her hands up, causing her drink to fly in the air landing on Reverend Wilson, who tried to avoid the forty proof of Christmas liquid cheer, and lets be honest it was not her first glass of the night if you know what I'm saying. Anyways, the good reverend tried spinning away which failed horribly, because lets just say he indulged in more than his fair share of sacramental wine in the celebration of little baby Jesus. His flaying arms batted the tray of Hors d'oeuvres, carried by the Litchens thirteen-year-old daughter, bless the young thing she just wanted to help her parents with the party. Anyway, a mini quiche Florentine flew right across the room and....I shit you not, directly into the open mouth of Bob Knaffle. Who’s mouth is always open because he feels compelled to share his opinion on everything. Suddenly he became more dramatic than need be, but that's just my opinion. Well, Bob started running around beating on his chest trying to dislodge a half-baked egg mixture from his throat. Its Pastry Bob, it would have dissolved....But oh no, old Bob in his panic haste ran directly into Gretchen Pile, who was part of a choir dressed up in authentic eighteenth-century garb, which included holding real candles. Who does that now a-days? Although it was a nice touch as it did add to the Christmas atmosphere."
