City of Boneheads: A Parody of City of Bones (The Mortal Instruments Book 1)

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said the bouncer, folding his huge arms across his chest. He stared down at the hot boy with blue hair and shook his bald head. “You can’t bring that thing in here.”

Clary and her friend Simon, who were waiting in line to get into the Pandemonium Club, leaned forward to eavesdrop.

“Aw, come on,” said the boy with blue hair, pointing at the five-foot-tall alpaca wearing a glittery club outfit that he held on a leash. “It’s his birthday and he really wants to go dancing.”

The boy gave the bouncer a pleading look, and Clary noticed that as he did so the boy’s eyes flashed an otherworldly green. Suddenly the bouncer’s concern seemed to melt away.

“Have fun, you two,” said the bouncer with a smile, as he pulled aside the velvet rope for them.

Simon shook his head. “What kind of jerk cuts in line and brings an alpaca into a club? It’s just gonna poop everywhere.”

Clary nodded. The boy was a jerk. And it was hot.

Inside the club, the boy with blue hair searched through the alpaca’s massive tangle of fur for the knife he’d hidden there. It took 20 minutes to find it, but he finally did so, and he smiled as he eyed the razor-sharp blade. It was fun, fooling the mundies. Next time he was gonna bring a rhinoceros.

The boy looked around the club, trying to figure out which girl he’d strike up a conversation with by letting her pet his alpaca. But he’d barely had time to glance over the crowd when a smoking hot brunette in a practically see-through outfit sauntered up to him.

“Nice alpaca,” she said. Then she looked down at his pants. “And nice al-package.”

She gave him a look, which the boy knew meant follow me, and led him through the mass of sweaty dancers to a storage closet in the back of the club.

“Kinky,” said the boy, as the girl opened the closet. “Although it’d be even kinkier if we brought the alpaca.”

“Sorry, I’m boring,” said the girl, and she grabbed the boy by the collar and dragged him inside.

“I’m thirsty,” said Clary, and then just as Clary knew he would, Simon immediately said, “I’ll get you something!” Simon bought everything for Clary, because in his total ignorance about girls he thought that doing so would eventually get her to hook up with him. For a moment Clary felt a bit sad for Simon, but then she thought about how he’d paid her cover tonight and bought her a steak dinner beforehand, and she wasn’t sad anymore.

“Thanks,” said Clary, and Simon ran off to the bar. Clary wasn’t actually thirsty, but figured maybe while Simon was away some guy she really was interested in would see her alone and start taking to her.

Out of the corner of her eye Clary saw the jerky hot boy with the blue hair approaching, and her heart fluttered. But the boy walked right by without even giving her a look. Why doesn’t he talk to me? Clary thought. Why do only nice guys like Simon like me and not jerks? What am I doing wrong?

Clary then realized that the boy was following a girl across the room. Clary decided to trail them and get a better look at the girl. Perhaps she could get some style tips for attracting jerky guys.

After following them for a few seconds, Clary noticed that a hot blonde guy was following the blue-haired boy. The blonde guy seemed really intense about it, like he really wanted to meet the blue-haired boy. Your gaydar is wayyyy off, buddy, she thought, and laughed.

The procession of the girl and the two boys made their way across the club, and finally the girl arrived at a closet in the back of the room. Clary was surprised to see the girl drag the blue-haired boy inside the closet.

Maybe that’s my problem, thought Clary. I’m not giving it up quick enough. She told herself that the next time a jerky guy talked to her, he’d let him touch her boobs.

Clary then saw the blonde guy walk up to the closet door and put his hand on the doorknob. Dude, just give it up, she thought. He’s just not into you…or any other dude, for that matter. Then the guy reached into his jacket and pulled out something shiny. Clary took a few steps closer to get a better look, and was shocked to see it was a knife. “Ahhhhhhh!” Clary screamed.

“Geez, if you don’t want ginger ale I’ll get you something else,” said Simon. Clary turned and saw him holding two drinks.

“That guy has a knife!” said Clary.

“Which guy?” said Simon.

“The guy by that closet!” said Clary, and she pointed at the closet.

 Simon squinted. “I don’t see anyone,” he said. He turned back to Clary, and shook his head. “Incredible. I leave you alone for two minutes and somebody roofies you.”

“I wasn’t roofied,” Clary said. “That guy pulled out a knife! I think he might be mad at the blue-haired guy for not being gay.”

“Riiiiight,” said Simon. “Look, Clary, I’m just gonna go get security.” And let them know someone’s roofying people, he thought. “You stay here. And don’t drink anything else from strangers!”

Simon hurried away, and Clary turned back to the closet just in time to see the guy with the knife slip inside. Clary couldn’t just stand by while a hate crime was perpetrated against straight people. She had to try and help.

Clary ran over to the closet, slowly opened the door, and stepped inside. At first all she saw was boxes filled with bottles of alcohol. But then she heard voices from further back in the closet. She peered around a stack of boxes and saw the blue-haired boy giggling with the girl. Then she saw the blonde guy come up behind the boy, raise his knife, and bring it down with a thud.

Clary stifled a gasp and fell to her knees in horror. She wanted to run, but she also felt like she needed to stay and witness the entire crime so the perpetrator could be brought to justice. She took a deep breath and peered around the boxes again, afraid of what she might see. But instead of blood and gore, she saw the blond guy using his knife to cut open a box of premium vodka, while the blue-haired boy and the girl took bottles from the box and loaded them into a canvas sack.

Clary suddenly remembered that Simon had gone to get security, and she didn’t want to be in the closet when these thieves got busted, so she turned and ran for the door. But in the darkness she failed to notice a mini-keg in her path, and she tripped over it and crashed noisily into a stack of boxes.

The three thieves all turned and looked at her, astonished.

 “Who’s that, Jace?” said the blue-haired boy, peering into the dark corner where Clary was sprawled.

The blonde guy took a step closer. “It appears to be a mundie girl, Alec,” he said. “But she can see us.”

“Darn right I see you,” said Clary. “And I’m gonna report everything I saw. It’s thieves like you that make people like me have to pay $19 for a Long Island Iced Tea.”

“We’re not thieves,” said the girl in the see-through dress. “We’re having a party and can’t buy booze the normal way from a store.”

“Why not?” said Clary.

“Because mundies can’t see us, duh,” said the girl.

“Mundies?”

“Mundanes,” said the blue-haired boy. “Also known as humans.”

“But wait, I can see you,” said Clary.

“Exactly,” said the blonde guy, and he raised an eyebrow knowingly.

Is he saying I’m not human? thought Clary. But more importantly, where’s this party at?

“You guys mind if I come to the party?” said Clary. “I only have one guy with me, and I can ditch him if you’re looking to keep down the ratio.”

The two guys and the girl looked at each other anxiously.

“Um, there’s kind of a list,” said the girl.

“Well can you put me on it?” said Clary.

They looked at each other again.

“It’s kinda closed,” said the girl. “As of five seconds ago.”

With a loud bang the closet door burst open and a burly security guard rushed in, followed by Simon.

“I’m not stealing the vodka! It’s them!” shouted Clary.

The security guard eyed Clary skeptically. “Them?” he said.

“Yeah, them!” said Clary, pointing at the two guys and the girl.

Simon shook his head sadly. “Like I said, someone roofied her,” he said to the security guard.

Suddenly, Clary realized why the security guard was being so skeptical: he couldn’t see the booze thieves. Neither could Simon. All they could see was just her and an open box of premium vodka with half the bottles missing.

“All right, let’s go,” said the security guard, and he dragged Clary out of the closet.

“Ooooh look, Johnnie Walker Black!” Clary heard the blonde guy say behind her.

Outside the club, Simon held up his hand to flag down a taxi while Clary stood next to him in silence. “Stealing vodka?” said Simon. “Even if you were roofied, why would you want to steal alcohol? You know I’ll always buy you any drink you want, so that maybe you’ll get drunk and hook up with me.”

“I’m telling you, it wasn’t me!” said Clary. “There were three people there. I’m not crazy.”

“Well you’re a hot girl, so you’re at least somewhat crazy,” said Simon. “And thanks to you, I’m out $500 for the missing vodka.”

“That’s not so bad,” said Clary. “You spend $500 on me in the average week.”

“True,” said Simon. He finally managed to flag down a taxi, and they got in.

“So these supposed ‘people’ in the closet, did they say anything to you?” said Simon.

Clary considered telling Simon about how they implied she wasn’t human. But she decided against it, and just said, “Nope, they didn’t say a thing.”

Simon studied her with concern. “Look, Clary, you know you can tell me anything, right?” he said.

“Yep, I know.” Except that I’ll never hook up with you, she thought, because then you’ll stop buying me stuff.