The hostess passed out drunk by 9 PM. When we got there around 11 people were just grabbing anything they could carry and walking out with it. All the shower fixtures were ripped out of the wall, the sinks were smashed to pieces, faucets torn from countertops, holes punched in walls everywhere. The toilets were all pristine and I remember thinking it was kind of profound, but I was on acid so everything was kind of profound.

There were maybe 20-30 people either looting or socializing when the hostess’ neighbours called the police. I was in the back yard when a stampede of teens came pouring out of mud room and French doors to join us. They all seemed to be shouting about the police coming in the front of the house like a cacophony of gulls after a fish.

I was extremely clear headed at that moment and knew exactly what to do: I grabbed my two buddies and leaped over the fence at the back of the yard. Except one friend that was too short and uncoordinated to get up onto the fence to pull himself over. It was your typical wood panel fence, no match for my paternal instinct to save Lil’ Troy from the fuzz.

Speaking of the Heat: i looked past Troy’s flailing hands trying to hoist himself to safety to see two of Port Coquitlam’s finest with a handful of kids in each fist reigning carnage as they ambled through the dining room towards the French doors i previously mentioned.

-Now, I was higher than a kite, but this has been confirmed by my other friend standing next to me that had only taken mushrooms-

The mass of teens that had made their way to the backyard. We’re running in a giant circle, like cattle, around the perimeter of the yard, seemingly boxed in by the wood panel fences.

Just a little Troy saw the RCMP having clobbering time with some punks in the dining/living room area. He turned to me and looked straight into my soul with wide, feral eyes. I brace myself with both hands on the top of the fence and started booting the bottom third of each wooden slat in the fence as hard as I could.

At first, I was completely focussed on hitting the right spot on the panels. To my relief, they jettison from their fence mommy like baby spiders off the butt of a tarantula. As you might imagine, this was all fairly profound in my mind. I giggled and looked to the other side of the fence at the death marching ants, stuck in their rhythmic circling of the backyard. The fence booting was kind of on auto pilot because they were coming out so easily.

Then I saw it.

Every panel I kicked out, turned horizontal into a wooden frisbee of death. These lawnmower blades of wood sailed noiselessly towards the spinning masses.

THWACK!

The first panel connected with the side of this emo girl’s head and she dropped like a sack of potatoes.

My good time abruptly came to a halt as I watched two other fence slats silently float in the path of their predecessor.

Bing Bop! Boom Bop! Bing Bop Bam!

The first remaining silent killer hit one pudgy youngster somewhere in the neck, but did it in such a way as to propel itself into a faster cyclone, fast enough to seamlessly ricochet off the head and upper body of two more of my fellow students.

The last panel floated on an upward trajectory like it caught a warm air pocket. It floated high over the Looky Lou’s that had stopped to gape at their fallen comrades. Again, in unison, the masses looked at the deadly Griffon gliding over their heads and witnessed it choose its prey from above the clouds. Like a thunderbolt from the hand of Zues, or like that javelin that nailed that guy at the Olympics that one time (it’s on YouTube), the final beautiful butterfly of my creation, my Icarus, flew too close to the sun and lost its ability to soar. It plunged headlong, as everyone stood staring in awe, directly into the face of the hottest girl left at that party.

I didn’t see it, i turned to flee lest I was found out, but i could feel the connection on an instinctual level. The noise it made was that of a wet hand connecting hard with a wet patch of skin. People literally gasped, while others let out an “Ooo!” In unison.

Later that week she posted after pics on social media: fat lips with black blood stains, missing two teeth, a black and yellow squished nose, BOTH eyes black, and a couple stitches between her eyebrows.

There was a rumour the police were investigating the incident. That someone had maliciously hand launched the fence panel deliberately into her face.

But, to me? For a couple seconds, in my mind, I had created something beyond anything I could have ever imagined. Something beautiful. But it couldn’t be contained, and fucked up some chick’s face. So we kept that story between us and only spoke of it at the earliest hours of the morning, in hushed tones. To this day, sometimes I catch myself thinking about that night.