halloween party: cautionary tale
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! In honor of my favorite holiday, I will be skipping my class and taking the day off work so that I can sit at home and write up-to-the-minute, breaking news coverage on this important All Hallows E'en.
Ok, that's not true. I will go to my class and I will go to work where I will somehow patch together a party out of several bags of candy and a karaoke machine I've never used before. It's gonna rock! But I will post at least one or two Halloween stories just for my own enjoyment.
Here's a little tale about a Halloween party and an all-too-authentic costume. Mwah-ha-ha-ha...
Ok, so, Chunk is this guy I work with who is, let's just say, challenged in so many ways. He's half-nerdy, half Mexican gangster (not LA gangsta, but almost mod-ish, old-school gangster), with a thick coating of punk-rocker. But there are always problems: the out-of-control dandruff problem that leaves all his black, rock-star t-shirts coated in head-snow; and his physique, which does not mix well with the low cut, punk-rock pants and heavy punk-rock belts which combine to leave us all with a nice view of Chunk's mossy, punk-rock ass-crack. Oh Chunk. He's always losing his i-pod or breaking his cell-phone or having the worst luck and the saddest fortune. Best of all, he's written a bunch of really bad fiction on the *work* computer and we (me 'n Fat Tony) have found it and read it and mocked it mercilessly. Because we are assholes. And because, really, you shouldn't leave your bad fiction on the shared drive at work.
But what about Halloween??? Ok, I'm getting there. So, Chunk, in accordance with the bad luck the god's have laid down upon him, got hit by a car Friday night. Apparently it was his fault and he got a ticket for it. Ouch. Imagine you're on a stretcher on the way to the hospital after stepping out in front a car and getting creamed, only to have a cop trot up beside you and hand you a fucking citation for being a bad pedestrian. Ouch, I say again! Ouch!
So, the good part: Chunk shows up Saturday night at Fat Tony's front porch keg 'n kostume party on crutches with a bandage around his head and his face all banged up. And the flow of inevitable reactions ensues: "Dude, that's totally realistic. Are you supposed to be somebody who got hit by a car or something?" "Uh, yeah. I got hit by car." "Awesome, great costume." "No, really, I got hit by a car." "Yeah, we get it. Nice costume." "It's NOT a FUCKING COSTUME! I got HIT by a CAR!!"
According to Fat Tony, after Chunk had that conversation with four different people he just gave up and left the party. Poor Chunk. But really... Chunk should be used to that kinda thing by now. I don't think it's unusual for him. Oh, and the caution in this cautionary tale: don't not have a sense of humor about your fucked up situation at a Halloween party where people will inevitably think your bandages and crutches are a costume. The end.
Ok, that's not true. I will go to my class and I will go to work where I will somehow patch together a party out of several bags of candy and a karaoke machine I've never used before. It's gonna rock! But I will post at least one or two Halloween stories just for my own enjoyment.
Here's a little tale about a Halloween party and an all-too-authentic costume. Mwah-ha-ha-ha...
Ok, so, Chunk is this guy I work with who is, let's just say, challenged in so many ways. He's half-nerdy, half Mexican gangster (not LA gangsta, but almost mod-ish, old-school gangster), with a thick coating of punk-rocker. But there are always problems: the out-of-control dandruff problem that leaves all his black, rock-star t-shirts coated in head-snow; and his physique, which does not mix well with the low cut, punk-rock pants and heavy punk-rock belts which combine to leave us all with a nice view of Chunk's mossy, punk-rock ass-crack. Oh Chunk. He's always losing his i-pod or breaking his cell-phone or having the worst luck and the saddest fortune. Best of all, he's written a bunch of really bad fiction on the *work* computer and we (me 'n Fat Tony) have found it and read it and mocked it mercilessly. Because we are assholes. And because, really, you shouldn't leave your bad fiction on the shared drive at work.
But what about Halloween??? Ok, I'm getting there. So, Chunk, in accordance with the bad luck the god's have laid down upon him, got hit by a car Friday night. Apparently it was his fault and he got a ticket for it. Ouch. Imagine you're on a stretcher on the way to the hospital after stepping out in front a car and getting creamed, only to have a cop trot up beside you and hand you a fucking citation for being a bad pedestrian. Ouch, I say again! Ouch!
So, the good part: Chunk shows up Saturday night at Fat Tony's front porch keg 'n kostume party on crutches with a bandage around his head and his face all banged up. And the flow of inevitable reactions ensues: "Dude, that's totally realistic. Are you supposed to be somebody who got hit by a car or something?" "Uh, yeah. I got hit by car." "Awesome, great costume." "No, really, I got hit by a car." "Yeah, we get it. Nice costume." "It's NOT a FUCKING COSTUME! I got HIT by a CAR!!"
According to Fat Tony, after Chunk had that conversation with four different people he just gave up and left the party. Poor Chunk. But really... Chunk should be used to that kinda thing by now. I don't think it's unusual for him. Oh, and the caution in this cautionary tale: don't not have a sense of humor about your fucked up situation at a Halloween party where people will inevitably think your bandages and crutches are a costume. The end.
posted by reasonably prudent poet at 9:42 AM
1 Comments:
Okay that was ironically funny. I think.
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