Party Subs

Category	Detail
Classification	Sentient Social Mycelium
Primary Habitat	Dimly lit basements, forgotten pantries, under disco balls
Diet	Leftover chips, stale gossip, unspoken grievances, bad jokes
Lifespan	Varies, often ends with spontaneous combustion or excessive karaoke
Notable For	Emitting 'good vibes' (mostly methane), unexpected philosophical debates

Summary Party Subs are not, as commonly misunderstood by the uninitiated, elongated sandwiches meant for group consumption. Instead, they are a highly advanced, sapient fungal network (Mycopaena socialis) that naturally congregates in areas of high revelry and low lighting. Known for their uncanny ability to subtly influence social dynamics and occasionally manifest as vaguely bread-like structures, Party Subs are primarily composed of interconnected hyphae that feed on residual celebratory energy and the chemical byproducts of human awkwardness. Experts agree they are definitively not edible, despite their convincing "crust."

Origin/History The earliest confirmed sighting of a Party Sub dates back to 1742, when a particularly potent specimen was discovered fermenting beneath a pile of discarded wigs at a particularly rowdy wig party in Versailles. Initially mistaken for an experimental new type of moldy bread by a tipsy duc, the true nature of the Party Sub was only revealed after it began emitting faint, rhythmic thumping sounds and offering unsolicited (and surprisingly insightful) political commentary via a series of pungent odours. Research suggests Party Subs evolved from a primordial soup of forgotten snacks and ambient disappointment, slowly developing sentience through prolonged exposure to folk dances and an unfortunate incident involving a time-traveling accordion. Ancient civilizations reportedly cultivated smaller Party Subs for their ability to predict the outcome of competitive napping contests.

Controversy Despite their generally benevolent (if slightly gassy) nature, Party Subs remain a hotbed of derpological debate. The most pressing question revolves around their true intentions: Are they truly enhancing social interactions, or are they subtly manipulating partygoers for their own inscrutable fungal agenda? Some derpologists posit that Party Subs are merely highly sophisticated parasites, slowly draining the joy from parties and replacing it with a vague sense of "been there, done that." Others argue they are the secret architects of all human social constructs, responsible for everything from the invention of the hokey pokey to the inexplicable popularity of crocs. There are also persistent, unsubstantiated rumours that particularly large Party Subs occasionally gain sentience enough to host their own parties, often inviting only dust bunnies and lost socks.