My Life As A Halloweener – Part 2
Archive - Andrew's JunkAuthor: Andrew Traweek
The Madness Continues…
About this time, Star Trek: The Next Generation was a huge hit. So I asked my mom to make me the coolest uniform ever, and she did. I wore it for a few, and decided that it wasn’t ghoulish enough. And it was tight. I needed to draw the attention away from my junk flopping around downstairs. So, I took to the thing with some scissors and a lighter. The idea was to create a small burn hole in the chest where I got hit by a phaser gun. Well, someone forgot to tell me that neoprene is highly flammable. That sucker went up like a roman candle when I tried to singe the edges.
Now half of my uniform was up in smoke. The hole was big enough to expose both of my nipples, which was a lot worse than letting people see my junk flopping around under the tight neoprene pants. My mom was livid. She spent all that time on a costume that I lit on fire. I still don’t see what the problem was.
So I put some makeup on my nipples, which in hindsight make me look a lot weirder. Add some blood and latex with burnt oatmeal, and you have an instant ion cannon burn. Now, technically, I should have had a hole blasted right through me. And trust me, if I had a way to do it, I would have.
So I show up at school with this elaborate (and smelly) costume. Some people thought it was cool, others called me a dork. Who’s the dork? The creative guy, or the guy that bought some stupid mummy mask at the store? Okay, the creative guy. But that’s not the point. I’ll be rich and famous while those judgmental bastards are living on the streets.
Okay. costume? Check. Junk wobbling minimal? Check. Nipples still invisible? Check. Wait. what?! No costume competition?! What the hell are you smoking, Principal Skaggins?! You dirty old woman. You are Satan!
So I did all that crap for nothing. I give up on Halloween.
That is until I was a teenager, and costume parties meant certain sexing up of my previously Star Trek-clad junk. As with any good costumer, booze helps a lot. My greatest costume ever was tossed together in five minutes.
We were invited to this great party at my ex’s house, which was to happen in an hour. Quick, Brother Chris! To the Flaming Pimp Mobile! Well, after two flame outs, a couple backfires, and a weird lurch from the 1970 Ford Galaxy 500, we were off to his house to find stuff for costumes. The car was still running outside. Not because we were in a hurry, but because the damn thing wouldn’t turn off.
I quickly found this cool Russian Army hat with geeky-looking ear flaps. I ran with that. I put on some tight red thermals, a cool western belt with bullets in it, with an old Ewok bedsheet as a cape. Now I just needed a weapon to fight crime with. I found this weapon in the bathroom. The Crystal Plunger of Destiny! I had transformed myself into “Plunger Boy! Defending the world against turds like you!”
Brother Chris was some stupid surfer guy. Ugh. No creativity on his part. So we drive our asses at the blistering speed of 35 mph across the mountain, leaving an impenetrable cloud of white smoke trailing in our wake. We pulled up to the party, walked in, and my costume was an instant hit. We even staged a fight with the plunger. I plunged a guy’s face. Funny thing is. it was a used plunger! Hahahaha. Take that, you silly person!
So yeah. Free booze. Bad thing about free booze is that you run out very quickly. So I offered to make a booze run with Brother Chris. We hopped in his car with cups of beer in hand, fishtailing our way into the parking lot of the grocery store. I quickly fell out of the window, and decreed to all the patrons that “The world is safe! Go on with your lives! All we want is your booze!”
I got hit. Yeah, it was kinda stupid to announce out intentions. But I was pretty smashed already. We go in, and I get our buyer to get me a huge bottle of Southern Comfort all for me. I was so enamored with my SoCo, that I had completely forgotten about my beer that I had sat in the parking lot. Oh well. I had something far better than beer. We went back to partying. By now, I had ditched my costume, and was masquerading as the town wino. I had downed half the bottle of SoCo in less than 30 minutes.
That is until fate appeared in the guise of some dirty little teenage dumbass. “Hey, bro. Can I have a drink of your SoCo?”
Sure. No problem. What could possibly happen, right? I turned around for two seconds to watch a girl exposing her breasts. When I turned back around, the apparition was gone. along with my $25 bottle of SoCo! I ran out the door cursing the little twit. That’s when I saw the cops pull up.
I ran through the door, tripped on a box of beer, and screamed, “COPPERS!”
The party cleared out. There were people hiding under the couches, in the shed, up trees. even two chicks hiding in the bed upstairs. They weren’t very good at hiding though. All that moaning was sure to give them away.
Since I had nowhere to hide, I just stood (well, more like wobbled) in the middle of the living room with plunger in hand. I must’ve looked like a dumbass. But the cops just came by to tell us to keep it down. Never asked us if there was drinking going on. as if the beer bottles and keg out on the front porch weren’t clues enough.
After that debacle, we decided to call it a night. Since I was living down in Colton at the time, Brother Chris had to drive me home. 30 miles with me hanging my head out the window, drooling all over the side of the car. I never really vomited until I got home. Which was the scariest Halloween experience I’ve ever had.
When I got home, I instantly ran to the bathroom to vomit. First, it was all SoCo and beer. Then it was black. Black vomit comes from when you ingest blood. The stomach acid turns blood from red, to black. I was yarfing blood. Not good. My liver was put to the test that night.
I considered sleeping in the bath tub, in case I vomited in the middle of the night. But for some reason, I decided to sleep in my bed. I took a Sprite from the fridge, sipped on it, and went to bed. I woke up in the middle of the night two or three times to sip on my Sprite again. which tasted funny. But I was still too drunk to care.
When I woke up the next morning, I noticed that the can was covered in ants. Stupid landlord would not fix the cracks in the exterior wall that allowed the ants in. I promptly vomited a few more times that morning.
So as you can see, I’ve gone from the desire to be something gruesome for Halloween, to actually being gruesome on Halloween. There is a lesson to be learned here kids. Don’t drink SoCo and beer. It makes you sick. Oh, and don’t drink ants.
- Plunger Boy