Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics Chapter 6242: Chicago Memories (12)

Suddenly, the door was flung open. Several people burst in, popping the champagne cork with a bang, and the liquid sprayed everywhere, even splashing onto the ceiling. Accompanied by everyone’s cheers, the party began.

No polite formalities, no insincere small talk, everyone jumped and shouted like monkeys, drinking and bouncing. But Bruce just stood in the corner, holding a glass of champagne, not taking a sip. Actually, the wine wasn’t bad; it was just opened in such a way that made it cloudy, and there was even sediment in it. Bruce merely held the glass to keep up appearances.

He really didn’t fit in with the party at all. In fact, Robin often held parties at Wayne Manor too, with balloons and banners, guzzling soda and showing off cakes when they were underage. When they were adults, they drank alcohol, often getting blind drunk, and Bruce had to carry them back.

But the atmosphere of Robin’s parties was one of revelry, exuding joy from inside out. Any occasional manic behavior was just because the alcohol amplified their happiness. After all, the events worthy of a party were genuinely worth celebrating, and Bruce would be infected by that vibrant atmosphere.

But this party felt strange; Bruce couldn’t figure out what they were happy about. The joy was gone, leaving only madness behind, and it was that kind of inexplicable madness, as if reverting to apes was something worth celebrating in itself.

The whole party was like a balloon, lively on the outside but empty inside, no emotional core supporting it. Rather than celebrating, it felt like venting. Bruce now just wanted to distance himself from this gang of apes.

“Everyone quiet down!” Brian somehow got hold of a drum, looking like part of a drum kit. He knocked on it with a bottle and said, “Quiet down. Next, we’re going to choose the party baby!!”

The crowd erupted into another frenzy of cheers, with people instantly raising their hands.

“Bruce Wayne! That damned country bumpkin, he must love that bunny costume!”

“Oh, of course, he’s a pretty baby! But we want to save the best for last. Eric, it has to be Eric!”

Everyone loudly called out Eric’s name. Brian banged on the drum a few times. Eric was stunned the moment he heard his name but soon forced a stiff smile as he was shoved to put on the mascot costume.

Through the crowd, Bruce saw Eric seeming to head to the lounge to change clothes. The few people who took him quickly returned, but Eric was delayed. Everyone waited for him for a while and grew impatient. Fortunately, soon a pink bunny mascot appeared at the party scene.

“First, let’s open the champagne,” Brian said. He handed a bottle to the pink bunny. Generally, when champagne sprays, the cork should be pulled out a little ahead of time, then pressed hard, waiting for the right moment to fully open it and let the champagne spray out. But this champagne bottle was intact; the cork hadn’t been touched.

The mascot suit is full-body, with hands not exposed, making opening the bottle very troublesome. It’s not like beer, which can be popped open in a snap. Arranging this activity was purely to make things difficult for someone.

By now, Bruce had already moved behind the mascot. He really wanted to help Eric; if he couldn’t open it, Bruce would swap it with a bottle that’s already opened. Anyway, these folks had already targeted him, and a few more fleas wouldn’t make a difference.

Unexpectedly, the pink bunny took the bottle, held it by the neck, and forcefully hit it against the table. With a bang, the bottle neck exploded open, and champagne sprayed like a water cannon, screams immediately sounded from across the table.

Typically, champagne sprays forward, so everyone stood at the back and sides. But the pink bunny knocked it sideways, and right everyone couldn’t dodge in time and got drenched from head to toe.

“Oh! Crap! What the hell!”

“Damn it, what are you doing?!”

The pink bunny pointed at Brian, as if to say he asked me to open it. Brian obviously hadn’t expected this, but he figured that Eric, being a newcomer, might not know the ropes, and doing something sensational wasn’t unusual.

He could only knock on the drum again, bringing everyone’s attention back. “Alright, alright, let’s play dice! First compare sizes, and then guess the points!”

The crowd immediately made space, and those who got soaked dared not leave. After all, if they all left, the vibe that finally warmed up would go cold, so they just gathered to watch the dice game.

It’s actually just tossing some dice and drinking for wrong guesses, and if you can’t drink anymore, pass the turn. But obviously, this rule only applied to the old ones; newcomers weren’t allowed to leave, and if they couldn’t drink anymore, they were forced to continue.

Yet for some reason, Brian didn’t call Bruce, and that was just as well because Bruce didn’t want to drink. He just watched the pink bunny standing by the table tossing dice. For some reason, the bunny mascot, which was adorable in an amusement park, looked a bit terrifying in the dimly lit room, the bright pink color all the more eerie.

This went on for hours. Dice, poker cards, spin the bottle, even girls’ lipstick were brought out as gambling tokens. The core idea was just one thing: getting people drunk. Everyone except a few newcomers was made to drink until they were unconscious.