All Hallow’s Eve. A night of revelry and broom sticks. Personally, I think a lot about Hocus Pocus:
Twist the bones and bend the back
Trim him of his baby fat
Give him fur black as black
As much as it’s a silly, crowd pleasing twist on the age old three witches tales (the Fates? the weird sisters in Macbeth? the list goes on…) Making one fat, one sassy & smart, and one dumb & beautiful, not to mention casting Bette Midler and Sarah Jessica Parker, can’t help but be entertaining.
I always labor over some sort of witty, innovative idea for a Halloween costume. I’m a creative person, so I should be able to come up with a really kick ass costume. Not so. Only a handful of times have I ever felt a costume I chose was successful by any measure. This year was no exception. I scoured the news, youtube and recent movies but no lightening bolt of inspiration struck.
On Friday we visited the Quietwoods South campground’s haunted house, put on by Southern Door schools. Haunted houses scare me in so much as I believe that any real psycho would find it a perfect opportunity to commit a crime, since everyone’s screaming already. It was a pretty elaborate set up, with a haunted corn maze, bus ride and house. Lots of chain saws revving over the screams and shadowy swamp creatures lurking.
The end of the house featured two giant inflatable bags that you had to squeeze through to exit.
Colin said it felt like, “Being squeezed out of a vagina.”
I said, “That’s the type of comment you don’t say out loud.”
“It’s what everybody’s thinking, and no one’s saying.”
Elise was home for a long weekend’s break from her new teaching job at Wayland, and she decided to be Velma from Scooby Doo, so I went as Daphne. I tried in vain to convince other members of our party to take part and be Freddy, Shaggy or Scooby, without success.
At the Bayside on Saturday night, we captured a corner booth and started drinking early. Some chicky came by and handed out bags of jello shots. We each took a bag, exchanging glances with each other like, never take candy from a stranger.
I could blame it on the jello shots. There was no small amount of alcohol in them, and I may (or may not) have stolen a couple of extras. Like I needed them. I could blame it on the double whiskey and coke. Or not ordering any food until I was already buzzing. Sitting in that booth in the corner of the Bayside, I felt the need to pinch butts.
In my defense, they were right at eye level.
And watching people look around warily after their butt had been pinched, trying to discover who dunnit was entertaining.
Watching them discover it was me and suddenly laugh, or smile, was funny too. My hand was like the claw, reaching out and seeking a good butt to pinch among the masses. It was uncontrollable. Pinching butts of its own accord.
Colin said I should have been, “Probe Girl,” instead of Daphne, since probing was my super power.
And then, when the room started to spin and I with it, it was time to dip.
The news spread about that little brunette, pinching butts on Halloween. Maybe there will be rumors. I heard she pinched everyone’s butt at least twice. Did anyone even get a good look at her? Sometimes, she would pinch the whole butt cheek. I think I made a name for myself.
“I never would have thought of you as a butt pincher,” a friend of ours said, afterward.
Don’t get me started.