Betty looked around the living room. There were seashells and brightly colored fishnets hanging on the walls. "This is different," she said.
From behind the bar, Tom said, "Miriam didn't tell you? We're going Polynesian tonight. It's a luau. Wait 'till you see the back yard."
"Oh, no," said Betty. "Bill is going to have a fit. He hates theme parties."
Miriam kissed Tom on the cheek. "See, honey? If I'd told them, Bill wouldn't have come."
"Where is the old dog?"
Betty handed her wrap to Miriam. "Working late at the plant as usual." Miriam took it to the bedroom.
Tom chuckled. "Keeping him busy building A-bombs?"
Betty seated herself at the bar. "You know he's not allowed to discuss his work with me." She picked up a swizzle stick. "Now what's a girl got to do to get a drink around here?"

At nine-fifteen Bill knocked on the door. There was no answer. He could hear music and laughter coming from the back yard, so he went around the side of the house and through the gate. The yard was lit with tiki torches. Beside the pool, a line of people were dancing the limbo under a fishing rod. "Knock, knock," he said.
"Hey, it's Bill," said Tom, raising a glass.
Betty grinned at him, but her grin faded immediately. "Honey! You look terrible! What happened?"
Bill shook his head. "Nothing happened. Rough day, is all." He pulled off his tie, which looked slightly singed around the bottom edge, and kissed her.
"I think I can help you," said Tom. "Follow me to the bar."
"I doubt it," muttered Bill.
Betty watched the two men enter the house, then turned her attention back to the limbo line.

"I know you don't like your drinks too strong," said Tom, filling a cocktail shaker with cracked ice.
"Screw that." Bill grabbed a bottle of rum and took a big, gulping swig.
"Hey!" yelped Tom, grabbing the bottle back. "What are you doing?"
"Sorry," said Bill. "As I said, it's been a rough day."
Tom filled a tall glass and handed it to him. "Here." Bill drained it. Tom raised his eyebrows. "You want to tell me what's going on?" he asked.
"Nothing." He sniffed the air. "Something sure smells good."
Miriam emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray of hors d'oeuvres. "We're roasting a pig in a pit Tom dug in the back yard. Hello, Bill."
Bill waggled his fingers at her. "Hiya, Miriam."
"I hope you don't mind that this is a theme party."
"Shit, no," said Bill. "It's fucking perfect." He laughed loudly.
"Oh," said Miriam, who had never heard Bill use profanity before. She looked at Tom, who shrugged.

"Hey, Tom, this music is great! What do you call it?" A chunk of partially chewed pork fell out of his mouth. "'Scuze me." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"It's the latest Les Baxter LP," said Tom.
"Whatever it is, it makes me feel like dancing! C'mon, Hon!" He grabbed Betty by the wrist and dragged her up, spilling her paper plate onto the grass.
"But Bill, I'm not through eating!"
"Eat later," he said, and began swinging her around, scattering the other partygoers.
Betty shrieked with laughter.
"What's with Bill tonight?" whispered Miriam in Tom's ear. "I've never seen him act this way."
"I don't know. I've seen him with a snootful a couple of times, but he just got real quiet. This is a new one."
"He's so -- impulsive. Masculine. It's kind of attractive."
"Really? Well, I've got an impulse right now..." He brushed his hand across her thigh.
"Not now, honey," giggled Miriam. "We have guests."

Bill stood on the diving board, a flaming coconut drink in his outstretched hand. "Let's do this Polynesian thing right!" he shouted. "Who's with me?"
"We are," returned a chorus of voices.
He blew out the flame and downed the drink. Throwing the coconut husk over his shoulder, he grabbed his shirt. "This is a straightjacket!" he yelled. "I spend every day of my life cooped up in this damn white starched shirt!" He ripped the shirt open, buttons flying. "But no more! That's all over now!"
The guests cheered.
"Go, honey!" shouted Betty drunkenly. She took another gulp of her Zombie.
"And these things, too! I hate 'em!" Bill pulled his pants down, kicked them off, and defiantly stood there in his boxers, illuminated by the blue glow from the pool.
A moment of silence, then laughter and applause. Guests began tearing their own clothes off.
"I think this is getting a little out of hand," said Tom.
"Don't be such a stick-in-the-mud," said Miriam, wriggling out of her cocktail dress. "This is the 'Fifties, after all." She pulled her slip over her head.

Miriam stepped over Betty, who was passed out in the flower bed. "Oh, Bill," she said, provocatively wiggling her hips. "I'll be your Polynesian princess."
"Excellent idea," said Bill. "Lie down on the table."
Miriam climbed onto the picnic table and lay on her back. The partygoers gathered around and held her in place.
Bill raised his arms skyward. "Tiki... tiki... tiki..."
The crowd took up the chant. "Tiki... tiki... tiki..."
"The tiki gods are angry," said Bill. "Very angry. They are angry because mankind has tampered with the very building blocks of the universe."
Miriam giggled.
"Tiki... tiki... tiki..."
"The tiki gods will destroy this world, if we do not appease them with a sacrifice."
"What?" said Miriam.
"Tiki... tiki... tiki..."
Bill picked up a carving knife and held it high. "I now sacrifice this princess to save the world," he said solemnly.
"Hey, wait a minute," said Miriam. She struggled to get up, but the drunk guests held her fast. "What are you doing?"
"Tiki... tiki... tiki..."
Bill turned the knife point down, directly over Miriam's Maidenform bra. "Forgive me," he murmured, and darted it downward.
Without warning, Tom tackled Bill from behind. Deflected, the knife grazed Miriam's arm, sticking in the table. Partygoers fell everywhere.
"Don't stop me!" yelled Bill. "I'm trying to save us all!"
"Shut up, you bastard!" Tom landed a haymaker on Bill's jaw, ending the conversation.

It was time to call it a night. Bill was in jail, Betty was asleep in the spare bedroom, the other guests had left, and Miriam was curled up next to the barbecue pit quietly sobbing. Tom picked a tiny paper umbrella out of the pool and twirled it between his fingers. I wonder where these things are made, he thought. Holding it up against the green glow in the northern sky, he could just make out the words "Made in Japan".
Green glow in the northern sky? He dropped the umbrella and climbed up on the diving board. The entire northern horizon was glowing eerily. "The defense plant Bill works at is ten miles north of town," he said to himself.
Tom climbed off the board. He stood a moment, thinking. Miriam was still crying. He went to her. "Settle down, Honey," he said, stroking her head. "Everything's going to be just fine." Gathering his wife in his arms, Tom carried her to the table. Then he picked up the knife.