Dereck was given a kool-aid rum-vodka punch, which he sipped through Matt. He was soon three sheets to the wind. Casey's parties were themed. This one was a salute to Modern Art. There were canvasses unrolled over all the floors, and kiddie pools filled with different colors of paint. Some of the party-goers stripped naked, and others were clothed as they stuck their hands, feet, buttocks, boobs or other anatomical parts in the paints and then applied it to nearby canvases.
"Man, it's pretty messy."
"So you need help out of your zentai, Dereck?" Casey asked.
"Nope," he said stepping into the orange pool of paint and then leaping on to a nearby canvas and performing an impromptu dance. He gazed down at the result. Matt thought it looked just like footprints, and it needed something more. Then he wondered how Dereck would ever get the paint of out his fabric.
A couple more drinks later, and Dereck was covered in paint from head to toe. His butt was dripping red paint, and his crotch yellow. There were dozens of imprints of Dereck's manhood pressed through his Spandex suit and on to canvasses to immortalize his junk.
Casey was pretty snokkered by the time the party started to wind down.
"Jackson Pollock, eat your heart out!" roared Casey.
Dereck woke up in a green pool of congealing paint, and stumbled out of it and fell on to a canvas leaving an image of his body behind when he got up. His head was throbbing, and he kept stepping or falling into pools of paint. He needed to clear his head. Dereck's hand went to his neck to retrieve the padlock key to unlock the suit zipper. The chain was gone!