Random Observation/Comment #216: Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. The masks come on, but so many other masks come off. People can stop living like they have a stick up their butts and just have some fun. As a tribute to this Halloween, I will write a story. It’s supposed to be scary.
It was just like any other Halloween. All the girls were competing to be slutty, while all the guys just enjoyed picturing them with fewer clothes on than they already wore (which wasn’t that challenging). The music was bumpin’ – Who doesn’t love music that degrades women, cleverly masked by an addictive beat? An aroma of sex and sweat was palpable on the dance floor. It was a party filled with people I knew from class, but I could hardly tell with the makeup in the way. If you unfocused your eyes a bit and let the cheesy, hazy lens effect kick in, you’d probably see some devil work and monkeys doing back-flips. The theme of the party was irrelevant since everyone took it as “let’s drink a lot and try to hook up with as many people as possible without obviously looking like a harlot.” The addition of costumes only contributed as an additional social lubricant to get the conversations started. “Who are you supposed to be? Superman dressing up as Chuck Norris.”
I followed the routine of becoming a horde of the undead, and roamed the cramped apartment hallways chanting for “beer” with the typical zombie “brains” tone and demeanor. The wine stains spilt on the shredded t-shirt with assorted blood works only added to the effect. A drunken stumble and stubbed toe made the zombie hobble more believable. The extra attention was a plus. It was the only time I wouldn’t mind feeling like a celebrity. They didn’t dig into my personal life – it was just some show of teeth with an assortment of poses.
As the night progressed, my vision tunneled and a dark shade of red outlined my world. My eyes were two inches too high and I began to feel afraid of heights just by looking down towards my feet. I stared at my hands, but I didn’t recognize them. It wasn’t as if I couldn’t see past the blood stains and fake scars; my fingers didn’t feel right. It was like looking into a mirror and trying to think in a reflection after drinking excessively (this may have been the case). Nothing was in my control and I didn’t remember signing up for something like this. In a world where everything was so factual and calculated, how could I let go?
There was a red hue, over-saturation in the image in front of me. Noises at the extreme high and low frequencies were louder and more distinguishable to torture my subconscious comprehension skills. Shrieks of laughter pierced my ears. I swore it was bleeding, but it was probably part of the bottle o’ blood. I wish my body moved as fast as my thoughts, but everything was so slow.
All of a sudden, a man in a tweed jacket approached me; his face furious and his wagging finger quite intimidating. He mumbled about killing a cat in a box, but I couldn’t be sure. All I remembered was the red marker and it’s scarring cuts and slashes into my dignity. I fell to my knees as I dripped onto a floor covered in paper. As I leaned in disillusionment, I saw others around me struck and fall, as well. Some eyes were glazed trying to hold back tears, while others seemed to twitch in disbelief. I couldn’t tell what was happening. How did the tone change within a single paragraph?
One by one, the papers on the floor disappeared – the red marker already causing its pain. One by one, the smiles faded. One by one, the bottles of alcohol disappeared. I was there alone with a much less cheerful narrative and far fewer clever observations. I couldn’t breathe, but this was expected as a zombie.
Imagine with me, if you will, this nightmare haunting in the back of my mind at all times. I will always be a Cooper student. Didn’t you remember? The exam is tomorrow.
I would have sworn I heard a howl…
~See Lemons Boo!
