A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Halloween Party!

A few years ago I attended a Halloween party at a very elite nightclub. Being the highly sought after social butterfly that I am, I had waited until the very last minute to decide which invitation I was going to accept for the plethora of festivities that were scheduled on that All Hallows eve. This left me in the usual mad scramble at the last minute trying to assemble the perfect horrifying costume.

I have to say that, unlike my friends and compatriots, deciding on a costume has always been the most frustrating part of Halloween for me, and this Halloween was no exception. As a matter of fact, by the time I had to leave to meet my friends at the club, I had no costume whatsoever, and I had firmly decided to denounce the practice of dressing up like a character from a bad nightmare to everyone I came in contact with for the rest of the night. What a silly, stupid, and bad taste thing to do. That was going to be my line for the night, and I was going to stick to it. So, off I went.

On my way from the parking lot to the velvet rope entrance of the nightspot where I was expected, I came across a poor sap and his girlfriend who had locked themselves out of their car. They were both in a panic about the matter and they asked me if I could assist them, as they had also locked their I.D.s and money in the vehicle. I also happened to be the only passerby who looked approachable among the zombies, ghouls, psychos, and Rubick's Cubes who were making their way to the club too.

They had a wire hangar, but I could see that it was pretty useless against the car they were driving. So, I went back to my car and retrieved the "slim Jim" I happened to have at the time. When I got back to the locked car, I took the wire hangar they had been using and simply hung it around my neck as I used my tool to pop their lock in about 30 seconds. All was right with the world. Not wanting to go all the way back to my car again, and seeing how slim jims are cheap and easy to come by, I let the guy keep my slim Jim, refused to accept and payment for my skills, and continued on my way to the club, a bona fide hero. Just the way I like things.

When I arrived at the club, I caught up with 8-10 of my friends just as they were entering the front door of the place. We all gathered just inside the door and everyone except me began going through the process of providing their I.D.s and paying cover charges. Of course, since I didn't have a costume on, and because I am a well known and beloved

"A list" personality, there was no need for me to go through the motions. So, I didn't.

Instead, I observed and complimented my fellow revelers on their ghastly accoutrements. One of my buddies had actually taken four hours to have the extensive make-up he was wearing applied for his appearance as none- other than Satan, the embodiment of all evil. He spent a whopping $1,200.00 on the get-up!

It was at this time, while I was admiring his special effects masterpiece, that one of the girls in the group started up with, "What? Are you too good to get dressed up? This is supposed to be a costume party. I don't see why you get to come in without a costume if the rest of us can't!"

They say that every party has a pooper. It wouldn't be a party without one. It's part of a proper party experience. I just don't like it when one of those poopers tries to poop on my pleasant portion of the party. Especially considering that it was actually just prior to the party proper. Please! But I digress.

"And what in the hell are you doing with that wire hangar around your neck?" She demanded.

Without missing a beat, or really thinking about what I was saying I said, "That, my dear, is my costume - Thank you very much!"

"Costume! Ha! What kind of a f*%$#d-up b@%+#&t costume is that? What are you supposed to be?" She continued to demand.

Without even thinking, I said the first thing that cracked open my thick, though unusually attractive skull, and crawled inside right before making it's way to my overactive, though, again, unusually attractive mouth.

"I, am an abortion," I said.

If you have read a good portion of the things I write, you will have, no doubt, read my warnings to the effect that I often times think that I am a whole lot funnier than I really am. I didn't really think that I was being all that funny, and I didn't think that I was being inappropriate given the fact that I was standing next to a guy dressed like Satan, the embodiment of all things evil, and another bloke with a beard, wearing a nun's Habit, who had a 6 inch blade protruding from the prosthetic breasts he was wearing, whilst carrying the head of an old lady, and a mangled cat. And barfing. Now that I think about it, that was Dave. He may have gotten started a little early, and the barf may not have been part of his costume. Either way, it certainly added another vote for the "Most Tasteless, and Inappropriate Costume" award to a more likely candidate. Or so I thought.

For you see, no sooner had I let those cavalier words pass my lips, the girl who had demanded the explanation hauled off and slapped me. That was followed by the slap of another one of the girls in the group. One of the other girls screamed, "You, Ass!" as she tried to console the hysterical tears that had erupted from the face of a girl who was in front of our group and dressed like one of the "Tele-Tubbies" with a hatchet in it's head, and what appeared to be a tourniquet tied around it's arm, just above what appeared to be a half injected Heroin needle.

The guy dressed like Satan, the supreme embodiment of all of the things in this Universe that are evil and horrifying, and macabre, and malicious, and horrifying, and just plain bad, and wrong, that guy just looked at me, shook his head, and said, "Dude>." I put the > symbol there to emphasize the way the word "Dude" went down with disapproval when he said it. Satan, that is.

I tried to say that I had just been kidding, but there was no turning back at that point.

I can honestly report that there were about 16 people in attendance that evening whom refused to speak to me for the entire time we were at the club. Furthermore, I can also affirm that there are at least five people that I know of who will not speak with me to this very day as a result of that little event. I spent the rest of the night listening to Dave, when he wasn't barfing, explain to me, in a scolding tone, all of the many reasons, and there were very many, that my comment and, most especially, my costume were both more reprehensible than anything Satan ever even thought of doing.

I was shunned.

Well, except for this group of "Goth" chicks that offered to let me hang a bloody baby doll from the wire. I demurred.

It is a little hard for me to express my feelings about the event, but I can tell you that I have worn that costume every year since. Cost = $0.00. Value = $Priceless.