James Maldano was 36, single, and lazy. He lived in a small studio apartment with his cat, Henry. He worked a pointless job, making hardly any money, most of which went to beer and pot. He liked videogames and crosswords. In short, he was a nobody. Not until he won the lottery did anybody give one shit about him. Suddenly, he was skyrocketed up the social ladder. Everybody wanted to be his friend, but more importantly, everyone wanted his money. He became sick of it all. He thought to himself, "How do rich people do it? I can't stand this incessant pandering."
So he decided he would join the financial elite and ask them. His attempts to penetrate the social circles of the rich and influential failed miserably. They wanted nothing to do with a boorish nouveau riche simpleton like himself. When he drew near them, they would start speaking French and laugh at him. He didn't fit in anywhere.
Still, he persisted. One night, after dinner, some of the rich folk were in the smoking room having a conversation about our Mr. Maldano. He was becoming intolerable to them. They decided that if he was going to be such a kissass, they might as well use it to their advantage. Possibly, they can use him as a whipping boy, which might be fun. And maybe they could even hammer in some manners into the idiot. They would invite him to their next Federation of American Gastronomers meeting and see how he fared.
When the invitation came, James was elated. It was printed on fancy paper with lots of swirly letters. It even smelled fancy. The day of the party, James put on his most expensive clothes and headed over to the country club. Finally, he was going to learn their well kept secrets.
After the valet parked his ferrari with the others, he was ushered into a grand hall. He looked around and something dawned on him. No one here was eating. He checked the tables, but all they held was water and wine. He asked where the food was. This is a foodie club afterall. They told him to wait. It was still being prepared and would be brought out soon. He asked what type of things they'd be eating. "Only the best and rarest things, to be sure." was the response of the man standing next to him. He introduced himself as Walter Pemrose, an astrological financier. Walter explained, " Tonight we will be having a very rare delicacy indeed. Something only the richest of the rich can afford."
10 minutes later, a great set of doors in the back of the hall opened. Someone shouted, "Take your places! The meal is about to be served!" You can imagine the shock when, through the doors, marched a parade of naked men. Weirder still, each one of them had massive throbbing hard-ons. James did not know what to do. Sure, rich people are weird, but why would they have naked men serve their meal? And why do they all have giant boners? AND WHERE'S THE FOOD?
James watched in complete astonishment as the nude men proceeded to hop up onto the tables and start whacking off. He thought he was being fucked with, and started to laugh to himself. Rich people sure know how to pull a prank. That was until the first man took a wine glass, walked up to the table, and filled it with fresh warm jizzum. He rolled it around in his glass. He admired to bouquet, then drank. James almost shit himself. What the fuck is wrong with rich people?!
He stood frozen as it was explained that the man who just spewed his load into a wine glass was fed on nothing but asparagus for weeks, producing a powerfully rich flavor, and was "milked" repeatedly for the first few days, then was required to save up for the event. He was softly massaged since 8 this morning. This was the process which yielded the greatest volume, and the preferred method of true gastronomers.
Walter returned to James' side as soon as he noticed the look on his face. "Mr. Maldano." he said "What exactly is the matter?"
James replies flatly, "This is the gayest thing I have ever seen."
"How dare you?" exclaims Walter. "There is nothing homosexual about this."
James looks him dead in the eye and says, "There is everything homosexual about this. Now I'm going home. I'm not about to swallow a glass of splooge with you and your cronies."
James could hear Walter yelling, "We are connoisseurs of exotic flavors! If you're going to think so basely, then get out and never come back! You'll never be one of us!" as he strode out the front doors and asked the valet for his car.
"Fuck everyone." thought James as he cruised along the highway. "I'm going to buy a cabin in the middle of nowhere and never speak to another person again for as long as I live."
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