**PEN America Dinner-Gala: A Night of Literary Celebration Hosted by Amber Ruffin**
In a dazzling display of literary prowess and questionable fashion choices, the PEN America Dinner-Gala took place last night, hosted by the ever-charming Amber Ruffin. The event, which was billed as a “celebration of words,” quickly devolved into a competition of who could wear the most impractical shoes while reciting Shakespearean sonnets.
As guests arrived, they were greeted by a red carpet that was actually just a long strip of recycled paper, because, you know, “literary.” Ruffin, in a gown that looked suspiciously like a giant book cover, opened the evening with a joke that left the audience in stitches. “I told my editor I wanted to write a novel about procrastination. He said, ‘Why not wait until next year?’”
The highlight of the evening was undoubtedly the “Best Literary Hairdo” award, which went to renowned author and part-time magician, Jasper Quill. “I just wanted to show that my hair is as wild as my imagination,” Quill said, sporting a hairstyle that resembled a confused hedgehog. “I call it ‘The Hemingway.’”
As the night progressed, attendees engaged in heated debates over the best way to pronounce “quinoa,” while others attempted to impress each other with their knowledge of obscure literary references. “I once read a book by a guy named ‘Moby Dick,’” boasted local poet and self-proclaimed literary guru, Linda “The Bookworm” McFadden. “It was about a whale, I think. Or was it a really big fish?”
The evening concluded with a surprise performance by the band “The Procrastinators,” who played a medley of songs that nobody had ever heard of, but everyone pretended to love. “We’re just here to remind you that life is too short to read the last chapter,” lead singer, Chuck “The Unread” Thompson, declared, before promptly forgetting the lyrics to their own song.
As guests stumbled out into the night, clutching their overpriced goodie bags filled with bookmarks and existential dread, one thing was clear: the PEN America Dinner-Gala was a night to remember—or at least a night to forget, depending on how many glasses of overpriced wine one consumed.
