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Description
My mother had an office party last night. At some point, she brought a bunch of people upstairs to look at rooms and stuff. After franticly throwing papers over my bed in an attempt to look like I was studying, ten or so people piled in and began to make offhand comments about the color of the walls and such. This one guy, whom I didn't recognize, had previously been sitting in the front room (while everyone else was out in the back eating chips and drinking) staring at the wall across from him, mouth open slightly. He shuffled in at the back of the group, and moved aside when they all left, but didn't leave. Instead, he was staring at a frisbee disk on my desk, with the same expression on his face. The conversation then went something like this:

Me: "You, uh... Enjoying the party?" (We can all affirm that small talk is not my strongest trait).
Him: "...There is a frisbee. In your room."
"Yeah, my school-"
"There is a frisbee... in your room." He quickly does a turn to look about, eyes wide, mouth agape. He counts on his fingers, and whips back around to me. I take a step back as he takes one forward. "There are five frisbees. IN YOUR ROOM."
"Um-"
"FIVE OF THEM." The voice in my head politely replies: "NO SHIT, SHERLOCK," but this is an office party and a certain restraint must be held. The next thirty second are spent with him way too close, breathing heavily and eyes darting about my face. I try to think of a polite way to scream for bloody murder (Unfortunately, I don't own a rape whistle) whilst counting the buttons on his ugly plaid shirt (Five. Three were missing and I could see his curly chest hair poking through the holes like worms.)

His lip began to tremble, he turned and stumbled out of my room and down the stairs. I could hear a loud sob, but remained where I was, totally stunned. He was shoving people out of the way, and I was later told that he cut himself a piece of cheesecake-- though we hadn't eaten dinner yet-- snag a half-drunk beer from someone's hand and down both at once before slamming the door and sprinting to his car.

Description
My mother had an office party last night. At some point, she brought a bunch of people upstairs to look at rooms and stuff. After franticly throwing papers over my bed in an attempt to look like I was studying, ten or so people piled in and began to make offhand comments about the color of the walls and such. This one guy, whom I didn't recognize, had previously been sitting in the front room (while everyone else was out in the back eating chips and drinking) staring at the wall across from him, mouth open slightly. He shuffled in at the back of the group, and moved aside when they all left, but didn't leave. Instead, he was staring at a frisbee disk on my desk, with the same expression on his face. The conversation then went something like this:

Me: "You, uh... Enjoying the party?" (We can all affirm that small talk is not my strongest trait).
Him: "...There is a frisbee. In your room."
"Yeah, my school-"
"There is a frisbee... in your room." He quickly does a turn to look about, eyes wide, mouth agape. He counts on his fingers, and whips back around to me. I take a step back as he takes one forward. "There are five frisbees. IN YOUR ROOM."
"Um-"
"FIVE OF THEM." The voice in my head politely replies: "NO SHIT, SHERLOCK," but this is an office party and a certain restraint must be held. The next thirty second are spent with him way too close, breathing heavily and eyes darting about my face. I try to think of a polite way to scream for bloody murder (Unfortunately, I don't own a rape whistle) whilst counting the buttons on his ugly plaid shirt (Five. Three were missing and I could see his curly chest hair poking through the holes like worms.)

His lip began to tremble, he turned and stumbled out of my room and down the stairs. I could hear a loud sob, but remained where I was, totally stunned. He was shoving people out of the way, and I was later told that he cut himself a piece of cheesecake-- though we hadn't eaten dinner yet-- snag a half-drunk beer from someone's hand and down both at once before slamming the door and sprinting to his car.