My friend told me this story:
Every year I host a garden party for all those people in my local area that have been cursed with the plague-like affiliation of dwarfism. Last night saw this event take place and a plethora of small people turned up. Dwarfs and midgets chatted as one, and I even threw in a few party games as well.

I took it upon myself to start hosting this event for a number of reasons. Firstly, I wanted to raise my profile in the local community as I aim to become town mayor by the time I am 40. Secondly, I am sick and tired of ‘little people’ being treated different from other members of our society, I thought I should make a stand and help make others realise that we are all the same. The final reason is the warmth I get inside as I watch a smile form across their faces when they see what I have done for them. Smiles so big that they almost take your eye away from their whacking sized foreheads. I love the way their little limbs flap as they clamber up my stairs and roll about in the sand pit. Oh how I laugh when I see them running for the punch, like a toddler, only funnier.
Last night was no different.

Invites had been sent out last week to about 30 midget people that I have got to know over the last few years. Guests started arriving at 7 o’clock and I directed them into my front room where they could enjoy the delights of ‘Guess which name I’m pointing to in the Yellow Pages’ whilst they waited for the arrival of the others. I’d provided a small finger buffet of cocktail sausages, pineapple and cheese on sticks, beetroot sandwiches and radish slices.


Around half an hour later, all my guests had arrived and it was time to show them to the garden. As I pulled back the curtain from the patio door, there were gasps of delight and their little faces lit up like tiny children at the fairground. I had erected a gazebo to keep everyone dry from the rain (after all, we didn’t want to see anymore shrinkage) and halogen lights lit the place up like Blackpool, only cleaner. I had even layed out an old carpet, and provided seating, and a small BBQ was ready to go.

The first party game was to be the piñata. Up stepped Mike, a dwarf that works in the local butchers. He makes small trinkets from the bones and carcasses of the dead animals there, and sells them on a stall outside. He grasped the baseball bat in his tiny chubby hands, his watch almost disappearing from sight amongst the rolls of fat as he bent his grip backwards. I blindfolded him and stepped back for safety. The piñata swayed in the gentle breeze, the pink and orange tissue paper that I had used to decorate it reflected the light hypnotically. Mike stepped forward a pace, and to a chorus of clapping and cheering, swung at the piñata with all his might.

He missed by a mile.

The clapping got faster, the midgets cheered louder and Mike swung again, this time leaping a little off the floor to try and get more power into his hit. He was still a long way off though, I estimated about 4 foot lower than the bottom of the piñata. I called to Mike to let the others have a go and so he removed his blindfold and put it around the face of Jenny, an even funnier looking thing. Her body was way out of proportion. Her arse is like that of rhino, whilst her body like that of an aphid. Her head is indescribable.

Mike gave her a quick pat on the back for good luck and made his way to the others. Again the clapping started, and encouraging cheers were this time as loud as ever. Jenny aimed the bat upwards and swung, the sheer momentum of it causing her to fall over. There she lay, flustered, like a woodlouse on its back. A small kick to her side was all that was needed to get her up.

Over the next half an hour, many more midgets had a go, but none of them could reach the piñata. This was a great shame, as inside lay many a treat including a baby bullfrog, a spinning top and a small Buddha statue, signed by Konni Huq of Blue Peter fame.

The next game was apple bobbing but with a twist. For this game, I had hired out a pool, one of the self-assembled variety that are seen in many gardens these days, and at 4ft deep, was adequate what I wanted.
I asked each midget that wanted to play this game to stand around the outside of the pool, in their underwear. They stood and watched as I tossed about 30 apples, each coated with concrete so it sank into the pool and made them all tie a balloon to their pants. This was to make the bobbing much more difficult, they would have to power their little legs harder in order to reach the bottom of the pool.

“On your marks. Get Set. Go!", I shouted and 12 midgets leapt into the pool. This was a sight that will never leave me. Little people all trying their utmost to get to the bottom of the pool, but bobbing about like buoys with small limbs. The winner of this game was to be the person that could retrieve most apple, with their mouth, from the bottom of the pool, in two minutes. Those that were not playing shouted words of encouragement, I just laughed at them. Their legs flaying out of the top of the water, kicking around uncontrollably as they tried to get to the bottom of the pool, was sheer comedy. Even those not participating found it hard to control their laughter.
I looked at my watch at shouted for them to stop. They got out of the pool and stood next to the apples they had managed to bob. Not one of them had managed even one, until that is, I reached Brian..
Brian stood triumphantly next to a pile of 7 apples. I was amazed at this amount. None of the others had managed a single apple, yet Brian, a man smaller than many at the party, had somehow amassed 7.

I congratulated Brian and gave him his prize, a homemade lemon gateaux with added fish essence. I told him to turn around so I could untie the balloon from his pants and it was at this point I was taken aback. I noticed a large,pointy lump coming from the bottom of his pants and asked Brian what the Hell it was.
“Oh, that? That’s my tail", said Brian proudly. With this, he lowered his underwear slightly to reveal a small wagging tail, only skin covered, not hairy.
“How….how did you get that??" I asked. He went on to explain that his spine hadn’t stopped growing, even though the rest of his body had, and so he had a little tail. He could wag it like a dog, and had used the power from this to propel himself to the bottom of the pool.

“This is an unfair, amphibian like advantage" I cried, throwing the gateaux over the fence. I had decided to disqualify Brian and so there was no winner. After a bit of protest, he agreed that he was in the wrong, so we moved onto the game – the high jump.

This was a game that everyone was to compete in. At one end of the gazebo, I had two piles of breeze blocks, four high, with a broom stick in between them. The midgets formed an orderly queue at the other end . One my command they all took it in turns to run at the broomstick, and attempt to clear it. Those that could would go through o the next round, where the bar would be raised, until we had a winner.

The next 20 minutes proved to me that my party games were a waste of time. Not one midget managed to clear the bar, and we lost Darren, the young AIDS victim, through a broken nose. He had tripped and smashed his face into the breeze blocks, losing 4 teeth in the process. Instead of playing the other games I had lined up; basketball and wrestling, I decided to call a halt to proceedings.

“Every year I host a party for you guys, this year, you’re just taking the piss",I shouted. “If your not willing to put the effort in to these games I’ve arranged for you, then I’m not willing to have you all in my house. Go on, get out. Be gone you pathetic excuse for humans".

They looked at me stunned, slack-jawed. I snared and they began to file out of the garden, through the house and out the front door. “And don’t come back!!" I screamed, waving my fist in the air, as the last one closed the door behind him. I had wasted my time , money and effort in organising the party. I felt saddened at the fact that these midgets had tried to make a laughing stock out of me, even though I was willing helping people understand them. What had I done to deserve this?

I walked back out into the garden and extinguished the flame on the BBQ. Walking back inside, I glanced over my shoulder to survey to mess they had left behind them. “The bastards", I said to myself, and went to the kitchen.



It wasn't true.
(Monkey the Chicken Twitter: death_stairs, Sun 2 Dec 2007, 18:47, 3 replies)

Can I invoice you for the wasted life minutes?

( The magic of chutney Shakes it like an Instagram filter!, Sun 2 Dec 2007, 19:21, closed)

"It wasn't true"
... or funny.
( wangmaster2000, Sun 2 Dec 2007, 20:55, closed)

tbh
I was expecting a better punchline.

But midgets being midgets, there was a small amount of mirth
( SocialRobot, Sun 2 Dec 2007, 22:18, closed)