"I know. The meaning... of life!" said James Black, from five feet and eleven inches above the dinning room table. His hands gestured out toward the crowd like the hands of a minister. His voice was loud, clear and deep and the crowd cheered him on in the smoky dark room.
"What is it!" they asked, yelling and crying over the din, laughing, and some still dancing to the pounding, streaming, glittering techno music.
"BEER!!" one man yelled, saliva spraying out of his mouth with the word, showering the cleavage of the girl in front of him, who was moving her hips to the beat.
"Sandwiches!" said a girl by the table, in the middle of a triangle of girls, who laughed at her and pulled her back into their group by her ponytail.
"Come on, tell us!" several drowning voices fell through the air toward James Black.
"It is..." he waited for a dramatic pause, but none of the noise stopped. "To LIVE!" His arms swept out like a stretching bird's and the lamplight illuminated the glistening skin of his neck as he trew his head back in epiphany. The voices stopped for a moment.
"He's drunk!" A voice hit the pause from the back of the room, like a stone hits a puddle.
From somewhere a beer can hit James Black in the thigh, and somewhere the music volume was turned up.