Donnie always loved parties. He loved the colors, the music, the balloons — the idea that everyone was happy together in one place. But Donnie never had friends. Other kids avoided him, whispered about him, laughed when they thought he couldn’t hear. Still, every year, Donnie planned his birthday. He made invitations by hand. He decorated the room himself. He wore his favorite party hat and practiced smiling in the mirror. On his first birthday party, no one came. Donnie waited all day, sitting beside an untouched cake as the candles melted down to wax. He told himself they were just late. The next year, he tried harder. More decorations. More invitations. Bigger smiles. No one came again. The balloons slowly lost air. The music played in an empty room. Donnie sat alone, staring at the door, smiling until his face hurt — until it stopped feeling like a smile at all. Something inside him broke. From then on, Donnie decided that if people wouldn’t come to his party, he would bring the party to them. They would smile. They would stay. They would never leave early again. Now known only as Party Pal, Donnie roams with a painted grin and bright colors that hide something cruel beneath. His celebrations are loud, confusing, and impossible to escape. Because everyone is invited. And no one is allowed to leave.
