by Shannon Fay
Though there was a bowl of hammer pills in the living room ("Hammer pills! For a quicker than liquor buzz!") Cora elbowed her way through the crowd and went into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. Getting drunk the old-fashioned way always calmed her down. It gave her that warm fuzzy feeling of being a child again and stealing fingers from her dad's bourbon bottle.
The party seemed to be a success. People were laughing, talking, dancing. Some of the more attractive/confident guests were playing spin the bottle in the corner (What were they, twelve? Not that Cora was any expert on what people did at parties). Her mom would be so proud of her, playing hostess, drinking socially rather than alone on the couch. "Oh Cora," her mother had sighed after catching teenaged Cora sneaking into the liquor cabinet once again. "Drinking alone is just too sad. Drink with friends and no one will say boo."
The problem was Cora didn't have any friends.
A girl bumped into Cora's elbow. The wine in Cora's hand came up and arced over the glass and onto her polka-dot dress.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" the girl said. She smiled sheepishly. "Uh, great, party."
Cora said nothing, just breathed in and out deeply. She squeezed her way through the crowded hallway to reach her bedroom. Even through the shut door she could still hear the music from the living room ("Today's Biggest Indie Hits!"). She didn't know the band or the song. The music pod had come with the Readymade party pack along with the vacuum-sealed fruit and veggie trays. The box had assured her that it came with everything one needed to host a wild party.
She loved Readymade. They just cut all the bullshit out of life. You didn't need to take the time to get to know trends or people or even what you liked. Readymade had it all ready for you.