The DJ will have left the stage. The light will remain on, but will there be anyone left to carry on the party? People's feet will be tired. Some people left sick, too much to drink. It happens. Some people saw the madness and decided they would stay home and not bother. Now, they are finding they don't need to party anymore. They've found out they can still have good times, and even better ones at that. Yep. Waitin' for that invitation to join them...

There is a hangover coming, even if people don't want to admit it. Some people are hardcore about it. They puke, give it a few minutes and continue on. There is no stopping them for now, but once that DJ leaves, what will happen to them? Once they realize no one cares what they put their time into, what will the reaction be?

Some people don't put much emotion into it anyway, let's be honest. They do it every day, they are the true hubaholics; they don't need a challenge to produce one hundred in a month, it's just a convenient time to say they are part of the community. Who knows, maybe they are just rotating their articles from site to site. Duplication is forbidden, but how can one be such an expert on toasters, chicken pot pie recipes, chewing gum removal and internet marketing? It's a cut and patch job somehow. A business somehow.

In business there are no feelings. Cut and dry. Money and time. Money and how much time it will take to make it is all business is. There is no emotion. The best one can get is a smile from the accounting office, but don't ask for congratulations. They don't give those. They only say, "And what else?"

What else? What will be left to give?

So the ante will be upped.  Some will dig within themselves and say, "Yes!  I can do it again.  It's a challenge!  Only those that deserve it receive challenges, right?"  Sure thing, pal. 

Some are sneaking out the back door with the party in full effect. No one notices. However, without them, there is no 'After Party', and everyone knows it's the after party that counts. The party was supposed to be a warm up, a try-out of sorts. But it may be that's 'it'. Everyone better be home at curfew, or the sherriff will getcha.

Those that came into the party were greeted at the door: Come. Have Fun. Relax. Bring what you know. Express yourself. Socialize. Get tips, advice....

They made it in and said, "Hey, this is fun. There are some real cool characters around here. What's this crazy guy named Pest all about? What about this CC Riter...."

They jumped in and started to mingle. There was no DJ at this point. It was just like some cocktail gathering...an hors d'ourve, ma'am? We call it 'Le Pig in La Blanket Kisses'.

Sounds fabulous. Let me try one!

But then the DJ came up on stage, gave a great big hoorah for everyone in the room, "Are you ready to DANCE?!"

The crowd shouted back, "YEAH!!"

"I can't hear you!"

I screamed back with the crowd, "YEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!!!"

The lights go disco and everyone begins to dance.  I'm not feeling up to it quite yet.  I'll stand against the wall and see how the party goes.  A better choice of music would have helped.  I immediately figure that out.

The waiter comes by again.  A new serving.  It looks like some jangled up chewy mess.  You know I hate chewy.

"Another exquisitely tasting hors d'ourve, ma'am?"

"Really?  Looks like fried crap to me.  No thanks.  I'll pass.  Got anymore champagne?  The buzz doesn't seem to be kickin' in yet."

Alright, well, this DJ seems cool. It looks like everyone else is feelin' buzzed. I better play along. Don't pay no mind to those characters Pest and CC sneakin' out the emergency exit. That strange Goldentoad feller keeps shuffling his feet in that direction too. Oh my, there are several others who aren't dancing. I'm sure, though, the alcohol will kick in soon enough. People will be dancing on the tables before too long. Oh how exciting! I catch that waiter going by....

"Sir, I thought people were supposed to read my stuff and leave me nice comments. Seems no one wants to talk to me like when I first entered."

"Uh...yes. Give it time."

"Oh sir? Yes,yes. Oh you weren't trying to sneak away were you? How funny that appeared! So can you tell me what happens after the party?"

"Uh...Yes. You'll make a ton of new adsense revenue!" He had that fake smile. You know, like people with too much botox. It just kind of stays frozen and the more they llie, the stiffer their face gets. He continues, "It will be fantastic! Keep drinking, will ya'? Gotta go now!"

"Um, yes. But I don't...I was just here to...um, yeah, not really into becoming a pretend spammer person. The sign said I could make friends if I wanted. Kind of express my opinions and stories, but now people are like my husband--kind of listening, but not really. You think that music might be a little loud?"

"What?"

"The music--too loud?"

"I can't hear you. Say it again?"

"Havin' a great time!"

Thumbs up. Pat on the back for me.

"Nice to have ya'!" he says before he jets behind the stage.

Not really feelin' the music for a moment. I walk outside to get some air. The cool midnight air brushes against my shoulders. I see that CC Riter is in his car. I walk over, tap on the window. He rolls it down.

"Hop on in, Girl!"

"Ha. I ain't goin' anywhere. I'm just catching a breath of fresh air."

"Don't blame ya'! Hop in anyway. Have a drink of this here scotch, listen to some real music...Don't worry. I don't bite and I'm waiting for that Goldentoad feller to join me. But he likes to party too much. He might not come until he's dragged or kicked out. But I'm betting he's kicked out soon enough."

I get in...feeling no harm, take a swig of his flask while he messes with his stereo. He lands on Freebird by Lynard Skynard.

We sat there peaceful like. The scotch was a lot stronger than the cheap champagne, and that was a good thing. I kind of felt like I needed something real at the moment...so I didn't complain about the harsh aftertaste. I took a deep breath and exhaled. Wow! That cleared my thoughts! As the words came up, "If I leave here tomorrow, will you still remember me..." I got to thinking about writing and what it means. if you left here tomorrow, would people remember the hubs or the person:? Some people I knew in the party would be remembered for both. I wasn't so sure where i stood. It frantically dawned on me that it did matter. it mattered greatly, that each hub you write might be the last one anyone reads. Not to sound like someone is dying but the thought that someone would leave, what would their last thoughts of my hubs be? Would they even remember one? Or would they just walk away and forget? Oh my, what if I wrote a hub and the one shot I got of someone coming by and reading it, i had written something phony and heartless, just to get one out? I wondered if the people in the party realized that. I wondered if they even considered that each hub they wrote did matter if they were like me, writing to "express one's opinions and insight." And that they had set out ot be sincere in their writing but the accountants had said, "No good. We need more hubs."

 I gave CC his flask back.

"You goin' so soon, girl?"

"I only came out for a breather. To get my thoughts back. Found 'em. Thanks!"

"Damn. We didn't even talk about how pretty the moon was tonight."

"Maybe we don't have to. Maybe I'll read about it in that book of yours...Take care now."

"You too, girl. Don't let anyone step on your feet in there. I know they're dancing kind of crazy, like they put some nitroglycerine in their coffee or something."

I get back into the party. Everyone was dancing, but they didn't seem themselves. They almost seemed like zombies. I had to shout out to them to stop dancing, but they kept moving lifelessly in a circle. Hey! Hey everyone!! No one was listening to me. I spotted that Goldentoad feller even closer to the emergency exit door. We made eye contact and he flipped me off. I was offended at first, but I was relieved to know he was not a zombie. I wondered what to do. How will I discover who has not been captured and who has become a hubpage zombie...Will I make contact with real people again?