John Hughes memorial high school house party held in North Quincy

Article by Brunk Edwards / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

A memorial high school house party was held over the weekend for late Hollywood director John Hughes, famous for his ability to capture the angst and wonder of the American 1980’s teenager.

The party, held at a residence on Billings Road, began at approximately 8:00PM Friday night and was declared over by local authorities at 7:35AM Sunday morning.

High School students and dropouts alike began gathering at the location after a Twitter newsflash that the legendary director had died circulated throughout the city.

“I told everyone to meet me at my friend Carmine’s place,” boasted Berris Fuellerson, a smug bastard from Wollaston whose antics have propelled him to the upper echelon of the Quincy underage drinking scene. “Carmine wasn’t so hot about people showing up his joint, but I told him that I’d take care of it. I mean, Mr. Hughes meant a lot to this city, it’s only right to send him off to that great house party in the sky with an absolute five-alarm rager.”

Fuellerson was last in the news after being beat into a coma following his ill-advised attempt to sneak him and two friends into a reserved table at the ritzy Quincy Center restaurant, Alba.

Holly Ringwall, an absolute average girl with a heart of gold, told the Scallion that things may have gotten out of control, but it was all for a good cause.

“I got a text from Berris that some dude died and we were going to party. I didn’t want to hang with that kid after he convinced half the school I had Michael J. Fox disease, but he said he bought thirty boxes of wine for all the girls. I love that shit. Anyways, sure, the party got nuts, and a lot of people got hurt, but it’s all for good cause. I mean, if it wasn’t for that guy, we wouldn’t have 80's night at Club 58, right?”

Police were called to the area an hour after the party started by elderly neighbor Alf Nelson. A recording of the 911 call was released earlier today, in which Mr. Nelson can be heard repeatedly telling the dispatcher that his name is “Alf goddamn Nelson” and that some “hungry Asian kid named Donger is eating ten boxes of Alumni pizza on my lawn.”

Unfortunately, things took a turn for the worse, as they usually do in this city, when Mr. Nelson dropped dead of a heart attack. The cause was determined to be a loud bang heard when a vehicle driven by a partygoer’s uncle backfired loudly.

Alf Nelson’s burial arrangements will be held at Coughlin Brother’s Mortuary tomorrow morning.

The police officers responding to the location decided to let the partiers off with a warning by firing several shots in the air and then leaving. It would not be the last time they were called.

In total, there were thirteen instances of police activity, five of Quincy Fire Department intervention, two confirmed deaths after officers shot two “A-1-EZ-OK Parking” garage attendees who attempted to steal a Ferrari from neighbor “Richy” Rich Moneybags’ driveway, thirty confirmed cases of STDs, four instances of the song “I Feel Good” by James Brown being played above 5,000 decibels, and at least one alleged instance of a pizza spinning around on a record player.

Hughes, who died August 6th, and whose death was eerily predicted by the Dairy Freeze on Adams Street, became the latest celebrity to inspire absolute drunken madness in the city's youth. With every social group, from high school football champions and stunning cheerleaders, to badass outsiders and nerds who wear glasses, even in the age of the contact lenses and Lasik eye surgery, attending the party, things were certain to get out of hand.

Scotty “Da Body” Twohotty, a square-jawed Ford Mustang owner from the wrong side of the Red Line train tracks, readily admitted to escalating tensions within the soiree. “I was just chilling on the porch, ked, crushing Buds and butts. See, my old man gave me a carton of Marb’s for my birthday and I was determined to smoke 'em all up before the party was over. Some people might think that getting a carton of cigarettes for your birthday is a sign of a bad parent, but, in reality, those things cost a fortune. A bad parent wouldn’t give enough of a shit to get you anything, let alone an entire carton of ciggs. Anyways, I spent two straight days drinking and smoking without saying a word to anyone there.”