Ever since your name started appearing in the papers in light of the recent discovery of all those people in your basement, invitations to the more desirable supper soirees and yacht club dance parties have been all but non-existent. Just a few weeks ago you were one of the most eligible bachelors on the Parties Where There's An Ice Sculpture circuit. Now, you're practically untouchable.
There is only one couple that can save you from being ostracized outright. You'll have to attend breakfast with the Hollingsheads, the most respected and respectable couple in New York society. If you can get them on your side, everything will be right as rain.
'Everyone assumes I was having sex with the people in my basement. I wasn't,' tell them. Make sure to compliment them on the muffin.
'Well that's a relief,' Mrs. Hollingshead will say. She'll pat your hand.
'Were you making them have sex with each other while you watched then?' Mr. Hollingshead will ask. He'll be tapping at the shell of his single hardboiled egg.
'Why no!' you'll shout.
Mrs. Hollingshead will say to her husband, 'Oh of course he wasn't. Don't be so base, Archibald.'
Mr. Hollingshead will shrug. 'Sorry old boy. It's what's on people's minds.'
Say, 'Of course. I want to answer every question that people might have.'
'Very good,' Mrs. Hollingshead will say. 'Now, if you clearly weren't having sex with them, and you certainly weren't watching them have sex with each other, God forbid.'
'God forbid,' you'll say.
'Were you making them have sex with items around the house then?' she'll ask. 'Wine bottles and rolling pins and the like?'
'Candlesticks,' Mr. Hollingshead will add.
'No!' you'll shout. 'I assure you, my relationship with these people was not sexual in the slightest. If any sex was had in that basement by those people, the couplings were the organic product of the natural attraction that blossomed amongst them, as can only be expected when a group of people are contained in such close quarters.'
Mr. Hollingshead will slam his spoon into the meat of his hard-boiled egg. 'Well speak up then, Man. If they weren't there to satisfy you in some sexual manner or other, why in the world were you keeping them in your basement?'
Explain to the Hollingsheads that your heart is perhaps too big to adapt to such a cramped city. That when indigent people would approach you for aid, throwing change at them was not enough to appease your conscience. You would invariably offer them shelter for the night in your basement. And you would of course be unable to toss them back out in the morning. Soon word spread of the wealthy man whose Park Avenue basement had an open door policy, and before you knew it dozens of homeless had fixed themselves a bed underneath your home.
'Yes but such behavior should be commended,' Mrs. Hollingshead will say. 'Why is the district attorney planning to charge you with 38 counts of kidnapping?'
Explain that it seemed clear to you that you could never let your peers on the New York social scene discover that part of your home was a makeshift homeless shelter. 'So I made the people promise to never leave or enter except at designated times late in the night. And I employed armed guards to enforce their curfew and to keep the homeless from running upstairs and stealing all my stuff.'
The Hollingsheads will lean back in their chairs, seeming to digest your story along with their coffee and buttered toasts. Mr. Hollingshead will slap his table and say, 'There is only one thing to be done. We must invite all of your homeless boarders over for cocktails a week from Friday. Your story is compelling, but the headlines will continue to paint a far less flattering picture. Once everyone sees you in the company of your friends from the basement and they see their gratitude for your generosity, surely you will be welcomed back into the fold.'
Tell the Hollingsheads that you appreciate the offer, but that most of the people who lived in your basement are deranged and would likely slit the throat of anyone who might speak directly to them.
'Hmm,' Mr. Hollingshead will say.
'Hmm,' Mrs. Hollingshead will concur.
You'll wait while your fate is decided, worried that your breakfast might return before the Hollingsheads are able to speak again.
'Well,' Mrs. Hollingshead will finally say. 'Perhaps we should run with the making-them-have-sex-with-stuff-around-the-house scenario. It might not be the truth, but it's a truth our friends will understand. Does that sit well with you Archibald?'
Mr. Hollingshead will say, 'Very well, yes. It's the best thing for everybody.'
Thank the Hollingsheads profusely for giving you your life back. You'll spend the rest of your morning planning the menu for the party that the Hollingsheads will host in your honor a week from Friday, provided you are not incarcerated at the time.
Happy Breakfast With The Hollingsheads Day!
