The couple entered the room, and not even the "hush" was heard. Oh, they were majestic indeed - almost as majestic as the finely decorated room itself! With a flick of his wrist and a wave of his hand, the gentleman indicated to all they could resume their mingling and dingling and tingling - and occasionally, ringling - about. Relief among all was evident, and they knew the gentleman was pleased.
A waiter scrambled over to the couple. "Sir, I understand you wanted 'bloody Mary's'?," he asked the gentleman, who replied, "Yes. How many do we have this year?"
"Only eight, sir. We would have had nine or more, but those 'Mary's' were out of town. Word does get around, you know!"
The gentleman glanced over at the cage of bloodied "Mary's". "Apparently it doesn't get around everywhere, eh, Thurston?," and Thurston, the waiter, replied, "Apparently not, sir, apparently, not. Would you like one now - or perhaps, your lady friend? I see she's wearing her heart on her sleeve...you do have a way, don't you, sir?"
With a bit of restrained laughter, the gentleman answered. "It's not her heart she's wearing, Thurston. It's her boyfriend's - or, rather, former boyfriend's - heart on her sleeve. I thought it added a nice touch to her ballgown! It's shocking what these young women wear on romantic holidays these days, isn't it?" And with that, the gentleman waltzed through the room, his arm circled around the girl's waist from behind. That way, the dripping blood ran down the front of her gown, and he stayed immaculate. As was fitting, of course. As was fitting.
He overheard a guest complaining. "I wish they'd soundproof that cage. Those bloody Mary's are screaming a tad too loud for my tastes!". "At least the Al Gore's are quiet," another guest added, "Or should I say - the gory Al's?"
"Of course they're quiet! They had their tongues ripped out! And their larynx! And their cage is padded - can't hear a thing from them!"
"These Valentine's parties get better each year," another guest - female - shrieked - come on - let's "Bob" for apple Betty's!". A commotion was heard, and then - a herd of "Bob's" - all collared and leashed, of course - were led in to another cage in the room. This cage was full of Betty's - who all had apples jammed in their mouths.
"You know the rules, Bobs - you gotta use your mouths to remove the apples from the mouths of the Betty's! But no swallowing! You can spit, of course - as long as it's in a Betty's face! Let the fun begin!"
It was harder and harder to find "Betty's" these days. Most of them were over fifty - sixty, even. Oh, well - the gentleman realized there would always be names, and always be games - and there would also always be blood. But most of all - there would always be hearts. His favorite were Candy hearts. Most "Candy's" were found in strip clubs. Melted down, they made a fine coating around their own hearts! Thurston figured out a way to use a bit of their blood to write cute little sayings on them, too. "Be my bloody valentine" and "I'm all 'gores'" were two of the most popular.
The best part of his Valentine's Day party, the gentleman realized, was the very end. One male and one female were voted most heartless each year. Of course, the two picked usually turned in to squawking chickens. Didn't they realize what an honor it was - to have one's heart ripped out by the other guests? He, of course, was ineligible to be picked - it was his party, after all. He reached for an appetizer on a trap. "Ouch!," he cried, "who put razors in the sharp cheese?".