Which Contains a Dinner-Party in a Cemetery

UPDATE: A special thank you goes out to Miss Sarah Spectacular, who provided correct pictures, and accuracy. Cheers, darling.

Gentle Reader, this story happened years and years ago, but it was the foundation for what became the Fabulous Party Association, which, sadly, is defunct.

After graduating high-school, Miss S. and I were looking for ways to keep our circle of friends together. While discussing this at a small local cemetery*, we hit on the idea of hosting dinner parties on the equinoxes. Our first was to be on the autumn one, in late September. As we were both still living at home, the venue for such a venture presented a bit of a quandary. Since the cemetery was close to Miss S.’s house and always abandoned†, we decided to hold it there.


Actual photo of the sign. Thanks, Google!

Invitations sent and menu decided, we had little to do but wait. We decided upon some games as entertainment. Our primary problem was now transportation; I was the only one of our guests who drove, and my Chevy Blazer (named Prudence, despite the fact that I never exhibited that virtue while driving her) could only carry three passengers. There was nothing else for it; I would have to ferry our passengers to and from.

When the day at last arrived, I escorted first Miss Spectacular, to set up our picnic, and then our guests to the cemetery. We tried to raise the ghost of Sierra N. Foster, who had a plinth in the middle of a group of plain headstones. All went well until the three-legged race, when the team of sisters fell, leaving one of them with a turned ankle. It was time to start packing up, and get our guests home.


Google was less helpful in finding Sierra N. Foster; Sarah was very helpful, however. I don’t own these photos; please don’t sue me.

It was still light when I took the first set of guests home. However, it was midnight by the time I returned to fetch the rest, and the girls had drifted off to sleep. A few of them were terrified out of their wits when I shook them awake – it’s a little unsettling to be woken from a sound sleep at midnight in a graveyard, apparently.


*Clearly, we were misfit teenagers. Misfit teenagers always hang out in cemeteries. Obviously.

Not Always, as it turns out. One evening, during the planning stages of this little féte, Miss Spectacular and I went to the graveyard to play a game called “Psychic Circle” (which is absolutely laughable, whether or not you’re into that sort of thing), where we encountered a tent in which people were discernably having sex. By all means, have sex in a graveyard, but a tent really takes away from the experience, wouldn’t you think?

About Ty DeLyte

Madame DeLyte has suffered a grave disappointment - YET AGAIN - and still believes that freedom, beauty, and truth are what's valuable, rather than vulgar cash. He'd add love to that list - but, well, what can he say about love?
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5 Responses to Which Contains a Dinner-Party in a Cemetery

  1. Sarah Spectacular says:

    Memories! I love remembering the time when we could all be perfectly natural, spontaneous, and fun, even though I couldn’t see that I had those qualities back then. Too much teenage awkwardness and self-judgement obscured that, unfortunately.

    I would like to say that the location was the Rosedale Cemetery rather than the better known Artondale Cemetery. At that time, the sign had jagged edges (by design, not wear) and looked like something out of the movie, “Pet Cemetery.” I tried to go back a few years ago, for nostalgia’s sake, but a plain, “respectable” sign has replaced the original, and the gate was chained shut. What do misfit teenagers in Gig Harbor do now?

  2. Sarah Spectacular says:

    Here is a picture of Sierra N. Foster’s gravestone.


    And a photo of the new cemetery sign.


  3. paisleyglen says:

    Thank you so much for finding those photos, Sarah! I had a terrible time trying to track down the pictures, and my google-fu is weak.

  4. ekgo says:

    Of course you couldn’t raise the ghost of Sierra Foster. She is AT REST. Next time, look for a headstone that says “vaguely disturbed” or “waiting to pass to the next realm”; you’ll have much better luck with them.

    • Tyler J. Yoder says:

      That is an *excellent* point. I still look on Miss foster as a friend. WHICH SHOULD DISTURB HER VAGUELY! Hurrah!

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