Adventures in Spookiness

Happy Halloween! Warning: I will be using sporadic ORANGE text and excessive SPOOKY language.

This October had been unusually anti-climactic and lack-luster in the spookiness department. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands, and do some Halloweening this weekend. Nothing too spectacular, just a few spooky errands.

My first unexpected spooky encounter happened at my friend Sara's house. (Sara, of Srosscoe fame.) She's chilling in front of her somewhat broken window, while I go ape-shit over her puppy. Upon glancing up... I see something terrifying.

Me: Gasp!
Sara: Oh... heh. Yeah. That? *points to broken window pane.*
Me: No. *dramatic pause; strides with purpose toward window.* That
Sara: Ffffffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu..................

What was I pointing at?

That motherfucker.

The good news? At a closer glance, we realized he wasn't actually down in the basement waiting to assassinate Jeff Daniels. He was just there to make a friend.

 And given the timing, it's also possible that he just wanted help with his Halloween costume.

As for my Halloween costume, I decided to be Hagrid for Halloween. That said, my next spooky errand was to Halloween Express (or Halloween City or Halloweentown or some fucking thing, I don't know...) It was a pretty standard experience, except for the fact that an employee, after he approached me and offered help, was pretty judgmental when I asked where the beards were. It's Halloween, you work in a Halloween store, and you're dressed like a mango or Rob Schneider or whatever, and you're giving me attitude?

After leaving the Halloween store, I was a little parched, and decided to get a Happy Meal. I almost got into a SPOOKY accident with a GHOULISH redneck and flipped him the HAUNTED bird at an intersection. Yes, I had the right-of-way.

... Not spooky enough.

That's better.

Moving on, I needed to hit Goodwill, which, in itself, is pretty spooky.

I don't so much hate Goodwill as I hate every single person inside Goodwill. For one, it smells like forgotten dreams and nursing homes. And secondly, every Goodwill I've ever been to leaves me more jostled than a prostitute at Charlie Sheen's house. And since I'm naturally very claustrophobic in stores anyway... I usually leave feeling like a sole survivor from The Decent.

Last stop: Kroger. On my search for dish soap, I walked by an item that inspired an epic double take, which, as the lady trying to walk by me learned, is a little more dangerous whilst steering a shopping cart. I'm not saying I knocked right the fuck into her, with force, with my cart, but that's exactly what I did.

Sorry, but if you saw this, you'd do a double take too, no matter who was in your way:

Really? Why do I feel like Taylor Swift's publicity team came up with the name for this (useless) item? Sacsoc? We're not allowed to have Schweddy Balls on the shelf, but we're allowed to encourage the masses to shove their "sacks" into something called a Sacsoc? I call shenanigans. SPOOKY SHENANIGANS, I say!


Back home, it was time to drink cider, carve pumpkins, and visit with the ghost of Devon Sawa's career.

Mr. Biffles was a little less than impressed with my carving skills. Fair enough, since I am, admittedly, no wizard when it comes to pumpkin carving. He did, however, offer his assistance by batting at the pumpkin guts as I was attempting to hollow them out.

He was such a good little helper that I decided to immortalize him on a pumpkin, complete with his top hat, monocle, and mustache. I also made a spooky face. It's not an official Halloween without one.

Here are the results:

Not too shabby, if I say so myself.

And those were my adventures in spookiness for this year. Happy Halloween, friends!


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