NEVER Piss Off A Witch On Halloween (Part 1)

20 Oct

NEVER Piss Off A Witch On Halloween Cover

It was Halloween night at West Hills University, which meant that instead of going out to get drunk and make bad decisions, the students of the school decided to go out and get drunk and make bad decisions while dressed in costume.

On an off campus apartment on Birch Lane, just a block away from the Main Street stretch, four such students prepared themselves for a night of alcohol, debauchery, and (if they were lucky) horribly unsafe, anonymous sex. What they didn’t know is that they were actually in store for was a night of alcohol, blood and more blood.

Colin Banks was in the apartment bathroom, putting the finishing touches on his costume. Wearing a tacky, bright purple leisure suit and a fake moustache and afro, Colin was the best damn 70s porn star he had, personally, ever seen. He admired himself in the mirror, putting on the pair of aviator sunglasses he had bought for the costume.

And now, the piece de resistance.

Colin unbuttoned the top three buttons of his leisure suit, revealing the forest like thicket of chest hair that was imprisoned beneath it. For the first time in his life, Colin was happy to embrace his abnormal chest hair.

A knock came at the door.

“Hey, Colin,” a voice called from the other side. It was one of his three roommates, Pete Sullivan.

“Yeah?” Colin asked, stroking his fake clip on moustache with a borderline creepy amount of relish.

“Whenever you’re done braiding your chest hair or whatever, I’d love to take a look at my costume.”

Colin sighed. He gave one last look at his now transformed visage, gave a playful wink to the mirror, and opened the door.

Pete was standing outside the door, holding a piece of paper and tapping his foot. When Pete saw Colin, he winced.

“Jesus Christ, you look exactly why we should time travel a nuke back to the 70s so that we can just erase that decade.”

“Mission accomplished then,” Colin said with a proud nod.

“Now I can finally make sure my costume is all set,” Pete said, walking into the bathroom.

Colin watched as Pete readied his costume. He took the piece of paper he had been holding and stuck it on the front of his black T-shirt. The piece of paper said in big, bold letters, “NUDIST ON STRIKE.”

Pete smiled happily at his reflection and turned to leave the bathroom. “All right,” Pete said to Colin, “let’s go Halloween the shit out of this weekend.”

“That’s your costume?” Colin asked, incredulously.

“You know how clever this shit is? You know how much girls like clever right? It’s why that show Sherlock is so popular right now, girls just fucking can’t enough of a clever guy.”

“So you spent all your costume money on beer.”

“Yep,” Pete said bluntly, “And I forgot it was Halloween until like two hours ago. Let’s go see if the fellas are ready.”

Colin and Pete went down the hallway from the bathroom to enter the living room where the other two roommates, Robby Love and Steve Chambers were waiting. Robby was wearing a pirate costume complete with a hat, a fake parrot and a plastic hooked hand. He was playfully swinging his plastic sword around while Steve sat silently on the couch in a vampire that featured a high collared cloack and pasty white makeup on his face. His arms were crossed in impatience.

“You fuckers ready?” Steve asked.

“Born ready,” Colin said, going to the fridge to get his alcohol ready for transport.

Steve got up, his long black cape unfurling to the ground. He dug into a pocket in the dark black pants he was wearing and grabbed a pair of fake vampire teeth. He stuffed them in his mouth and showed them off for the rest of them.

“Costume store,” Steve explained, “only 99 cents. They were in the used section, but fuck it, dipping it in Listerine for a few minutes should have done the trick, right?”

“For the oral germs, sure,” Colin said as he grabbed his beers from the fridge and put them on the kitchen table, “But can you imagine how many buttholes that’s been in?”

“If this was Vegas,” Peter chimed in, “I’d set the over/under line at three buttholes.”

“I’ll take the under on that,” Steve said seriously, “2 buttholes isn’t that bad.”

Robby continued to fake sword fight invisible enemies, making explosion sounds.

“I can’t wait till Robby turns 12,” Steve said, shaking his head in disgust, “it’s such a good year.”

“Hey man,” Robby said, never breaking stride in his pretend fight, “Girls love a guy who’s in touch with his innocent side. Young at heart guys get all the boobs.”

Colin chuckled to himself. So according to his roommates all he needed to be was a clever 11 year old, and his girl problems would be solved.

Steve came over to the fridge to get his own beers out of it. As he came along side of Colin, he surveyed his costume.

“And what are you going as?” he asked. “Besides ‘Not Getting Laid’.”

“’70s porn star, dude. Come on, I thought it was pretty self explanatory.”

“You look like Bernie from Weekend at Bernie’s.”

“That’s because you’re an idiot.

Colin and Steve got their backpacks that hung on the kitchen chairs and started to stuff the beer inside of them. Robby came over with his backpack and unzipped it, showing its contents to Colin and Steve. Inside was two handles of spiced rum, seven cans of beer, and a fifth of whiskey.

“This should be enough, right?” he asked.

Steve and Colin considered it.

“Well,” Steve said with slight concern, “maybe we mooch a few drinks off people at the parties.”

They all zipped up their backpacks, though Robby had to fiddle with his to get it fully close. His backpack was bulging with the tips of bottles, making it look like he was trying to smuggle small logs. They all set the bags on their backs and a nearly deafening clinging echoed throughout the apartment as the bottles shifted within.

“Good thing it’s not a dry town,” Colin mused.

Pete was standing in the living room with his hands in his pockets.

“Ready, bros?” he asked, no backpack of alcohol in sight.

“Where’s your booze?” Steve asked.

Pete gave a dry chuckle.

“The whole reason you go to house parties and not to the bar,” Pete explained, “is to leech off of other people’s alcohol.”

“With that lame costume? No one will want to be seen talking to you, let alone give you free drinks.”

“What! This costume is clever! And girls-”

“Right, girls love clever. How many times has that helped you?”

“Well, I mean,” Pete stammered back, “I don’t get many chances to show how clever I am. But now, I’m literally wearing a sign that shows it. I’m going to be the hit of the party, man.”

“I feel very sorry for any party where that occurs,” Steve said, “now let’s get the fuck out of here.” Then, in his best Dracula impression, I vant to drink a vot of vucking beer!”

“All right, Count Drunkula,” Colin said, clapping his hands, “let’s do this shit,”

The four fellas left their apartment and stepped out into the cool, fall night. A light breeze blew some leaves around like their were in a dryer cycle and created a soft rustling sound that gave Colin goosebumps.

“Ah,” Colin said, with a pleased sigh, “I love fall.”

“I thought you were a 70s porn star,” Steve said, “Not a 70s gay porn star.”

“I didn’t know Dracula was a homophobe,” Pete said.

“Anyway,” Steve said, ignoring the comment, “here’s the game plan. We head down to Dennis’ place. He’s got a new place that I hear is insane for parties. Like, there’s a room for every kind of game. Beer pong has its own room, Flip Cup has its own room, Quarters has its own room.”

“Steve getting so drunk that he can’t stop crying and blubbering about how lonely he is has its own room,” Colin said.

“Yeah, funny, jokes, I get it. Then I hear that Rossmore is having a party at his apartment, so I thought we’d check that out. Then we can head to the-”

“Listen, I don’t care where we go, as long as we get drunk.”

“Arrgh!” Robby said in a painfully awful pirate voice, “What he said! I be drinking the rum tonight, mateys!”

The fellas passed crossed a street that intersected onto Main Street and passed by the town’s fountain which was turned off for the fall season. As Colin looked at the fountain as they passed by, he remembered when he took a picture of it with his friend Connie and he got a rush of excitement.

Connie, he thought, a picture of her smiling face appearing in his mind.

He took out his phone and swiftly began to craft a text message for her.

Heeeyyy, he wrote, you going to Dennis’ tonight? That’s where me and my roomates are going. Be there! 🙂

“And who the fuck are you texting?” Steve asked, peering over Colin’s shoulder.

“Connie,” Colin answered.

All three of the other guys groaned at onced.

“Jesus, dude, let it go,” Pete said.

“Yeah, fucking A,” Steve said, shaking his head, “when are you going to stop talking to her?”

“Aye!” Robby said, waving his suddenly unsheathed plastic sword, “she be bad news, brother!”

“Guys,” Colin sheepishly said, his cheeks flushing, “she’s just not ready for a commitment. But she likes me, I swear, I just need to wait it out.”

“Uh huh,” Steve said, “and how long has it been? Since freshman fucking year? Hmmm, Pete, I suck at math, tell me how long that is?”

“Somewhere in the ballpark of three years,” Pete replied.

“Three years,” Steve said, disgustedly, “She’s been giving you that excuse for three fucking years. Sounds like a LOT of wasted time.”

Suddenly, Colin felt a vibration in his hand and the buzz of a text message arriving. He looked at it. Connie!

“Ha!” he said triumphantly, holding up the phone to show the others, “she texted back already. What was that, like, thirty seconds? Tell me she doesn’t like me. Or at least, yanno, see me as more than a friend. Or something.”

“You’re right,” Steve said dryly, “quick text message replies is the universal sign that a girl totally wants to bone you. Guys, Casanova has cracked the code.”

Colin ignored him and checked the text message.

Haha i’m at dennis’s right now, she wrote.

Steve was peeking over Colin’s shoulder again.

“Look at that,” he hissed, “a senior in college and she doesn’t even know how to use apostrophes properly.”

“Oh Jesus, suddenly the Accounting major is a grammar Nazi. She’s probably drunk and just wrote it too quickly. Or Autocorrect. Besides, who cares?”

The fellas turned off Main Street and headed down a side alley. They were close to their friend’s Dennis’ place.

“And also, supposed friends,” Colin said venomously, “I could use some support tonight. I’m going to try and make a move, actually.”

Another round of simultaneous groans.

“Yep, that will end well,” Steve quipped.

“When would you ever make a move?” Pete asked, “You’re too nervous to grab a slice of pizza at a party if you think someone else might want it.”

“I don’t wanna just take it from them!” Colin defended.

“Aye,” Robby interjected, “You’re a bit of a pussy!”

Robby then gave a fake pirate laugh as Colin fumed to himself. Colin focused his attention on a reply text, even though he knew that he’d be at Dennis’ shortly. He agonized over the word choices and the structure of the message, wondering if he should use another smiley emoticon or not, and before he knew ita he saw Dennis’ house in the distance. A muted sound of thumping echoed from out of the house and into the brisk night air.

Colin’s eyes darted back to his phone where he typed the best message he could muster.

Haha cool

It hadn’t even been a half second after hitting ‘Send’ when he regretted sending the message. He took solace in the fact that he’d be seeing her soon anyway.

They made it to the front porch of Dennis’ house, where a couple was standing and smoking. The man was dressed in a wolf costume, his mask titled up on his forehead to allow him to smoke. His apparent girlfriend was dressed as Little Red Riding Hood.

“What up,” Steve said with a nod.

They both said hello and Steve took the charge to knock on the door.

“Just head in,” the wolf man said, “Dennis won’t mind.”

“I love Weekend at Bernie’s, by the way,” Little Red Riding Hood said.

The others laughed as Colin blushed.

“I’m actually a 70s porn star,” Colin explained softly.

The girl’s upper lip curled and her eyebrows raised.

“Okay,” she managed to say.

The others continued to laugh as Steve opened the door. The fellas filed in and the sound of music blared into their ears. The house wasn’t overly crowded, but there was a sizable group of people mingling around in the main living room. The living room had two separate archways that led to other rooms, where the more people were standing around, laughing and drinking. They were all costumed, of course, a wide variety of things being represented from a firefighter to a spider to an astronaut. Colin squinted as he started to search for Connie. He took out his phone to see if she ever responded. She hadn’t.

He shook his head. Such a stupid fucking message, he thought, didn’t give her anything to respond to. Better find her fast.

“Let the fun begin,” Steve said, rubbing his hands. He took off his backpack and opened it up, brandishing a beer. He went to the corner of the room where a couple other bags were stashed and he left it there.

Colin and Robby followed suit and soon the four of them were awkwardly standing in front of the bag pile.

“So.” Colin simply stated.

“Yeah,” Steve said flatly.

“Now what?” Robby asked, taking a swig of beer.

Pete, who hadn’t brought a bag, stared longingly at the beers in the others’ hands.

“Damn, mind if I grab a beer?” he asked.

“Fuck that,” Steve said, “go ask someone more generous and stupid to give you something.”

Pete slumped and looked out at the party, defeated.

“I don’t really know anybody here,” he said.

“Yeah, there aren’t as many people here that we know.”

“Well, it’s a lot of rooms,” Steve reasoned, “maybe they’re in the other parts of the house.”

“Yeah, like Connie!” Colin exclaimed. “She said she was here.”

Steve shrugged and led them through one of the archways, into what looked like a dining room with a long table where beer pong was being played. At the end of this room was yet another archway, leading to what looked like the kitchen.

The four fellas now found themselves standing awkwardly by the table.

“We should sign up to play!” Robby said, gesturing to the beer pong table.

“Where’s the sign in sheet?” Steve asked, looking around.

“Over there,” said a guy who stood nearby, dressed in leprechaun costume.

He pointed at a long scroll like sheet pinned to the wall where at least 30 pairs of names were listed to play.

“Hey,” Steve said, “we may be able to play by next Halloween!”

“Aye, this be worse than scurvy,” Robby said, shaking his hooked hand angrily.

“If you’re going to do terrible pirate impressions,” Steve said, “at least stay in character and do it all night.”

Colin wasn’t able to focus on the beer pong or the sign in sheet. He was too busy craning his neck, looking for Connie. He considered texting her, asking where she was, but he didn’t want to seem too desperate so he let it go.

“Oh shit, there’s Eric!” Steve said, pointing over to the kitchen. Eric, a friend the fellas made when they lived in the dorms in freshman year, stood by the kitchen counter, chatting it up with a girl while he mixed himself a drink. He was dressed in what looked like a robot costume crudely made from cardboard boxes that were painted silver with black knobs and meters drawn on them.

The four fellas were more than happy to talk to someone they knew so they practically sprinted into the kitchen, shouting Eric’s name. He looked up as he poured Sprite into his cup, and grinned.

“Hey!” he yelled, “It’s the Fifth East Fellas!”

The Five East Fellas was the nickname Colin, Steve, Robby and Pete had gotten Freshman year. They lived on the fifth floor of the east wing of their dormitory building, Thorne Hall, and since they always hung out together and were viewed as inseparable they were given the moniker.

“What’s up fucker,” Steve said, holding out his fist for a pound, “give me some knucks.”

Eric reciprocated the pound and said, “Not much, man, just enjoying the party. This is Tammy, by the way.” He gestured a silver gloved hand to the girl he was talking too.

She was a cute looking blonde who was dressed up as soccer player. She had on what Colin recognized as a jersey for the soccer team Manchester United, a knee brace and a pair of cleats. She gave a smile and said, “Hey.”

The fellas started to panic at the thought of a cute girl they didn’t know saying hi to them, so they all sputtered out greetings at the same time.

Steve tried to recover by starting a new conversation with Eric.

“So what are you?” he asked.

“A cyborg, man!” Eric responded enthusiastically, “Jeez, I thought that was pretty clear.”

“I don’t know many cyborgs made of cardboard,” Steve said.

Tammy gave a chuckle and Steve’s eyes lit up.

“Well it’s better than Pete’s, at least,” Steve said, obviously trying to keep the momentum with Tammy going.

Eric looked over at Pete and gave a curt laugh.

“Really went all out this year, eh?” he asked.

“It’s clever,” Pete mumbled, looking at his sneakers.

“Hey,” Colin said, trying to make sure no one forgot he was there, “you seen Connie, Eric?”

Eric laughed hysterically.

“Still trying, huh?” he asked.

“She just doesn’t-”

“Like commitment, I know. Give it another few years, I’m sure she’ll come around, right? Anyway, last I saw her was in the Quarters room. That’s upstairs.” Eric pointed to the room adjacent the kitchen where a staircase was in view. “Listen for quarters hitting shit, you’ll know you found it.”

“Thanks,” Colin said and he started to leave.

“You leaving us already?” Steve asked, eyes wide. “For her?”

“I just wanna say hi. I’ll be back.”

“Suuuure,” Steve said.

“He be trying to walk her plank, if ye catch my drift!” Robby said.

“I guess good double entendres didn’t exist in pirate times,” Steve commented.

Colin shook his head and left in a huff, making a beeline for the stairs. As he left he heard Eric say, “That’s a pretty good Bernie, though, I’ll give him that.”

Colin grumbled to himself as he pushed through the people to get up the stairs. He started to rehearse what he would say to Connie as he made his way to the second floor.

“Hey Connie!” He thought, No, no. Not that. How about, “Hey there Connie!” Yeah, that’s pretty good. Now, should I ask her what she’s been up to? No, how about I make a comment about her costume? Yeah, I’m sure I can find a good pun about it. Dunno what she’s going to be, but come on Colin, your the pun master. That shit just comes natural.

Colin found himself on the second floor which opened with a large entertainment room, complete with a 50 inch plasma TV which was being wasted on the old school graphics of Mario Kart 64. A bunch of costumed people sat on a couch, hooting and hollering as the blocky characters on the screen raced on some blindingly colorful road in space.

Colin heard the jingle of coins coming from the next room and power walked over to it. He crossed through the doorway into a small bedroom with a coffee table where a group sat huddled, trying to bounce quarters into shot glasses. In the midst of the group, Colin saw the red hair of Connie Rayne, his long time college crush since Freshman year.

Instantly his stomach fell to his feet and he forgot what words were. He tried to swallow, but realized he had no saliva, his tongue like a useless piece of cotton in his mouth. He inched towards her, her back facing him as she cheered on other people in the game. He reached forward to tap her on her shoulder, but recoiled. He then reached forward again when a voice said, “Yo, Bernie! Fucking love that movie!”

Colin jumped and saw it was simply some stranger commenting on his costume. Connie turned around to see who was dressed as Bernie and saw Colin. Connie was dressed in tattered, ripped clothes with bloody makeup smeared all over her face and exposed skin. Colin surmised she was dressed a zombie.

“Colin!” She squeaked. She got up from table and came over and hugged him. Colin felt a euphoric feeling rise throughout him.

A hug, he thought, she gives me a hug first thing. And the fellas don’t think she likes me? Ha. Please.

“Nice costume,” she said, nodding, “I agree with Greg, I love Weekend and Bernie’s too.” She gestured to the guy who had announced Colin’s presense, though he was absorbed back in the Quarters game.

“Actually, I’m a 70s porn star,” Colin explained, embarrassed.

“Ohh,” she said, “yeah, I can see that now. What’s your porn star name?” She gave a playful nudge.

A nudge! Totally digs me!

“Uhh. Hadn’t thought of that. DickBig McLargeHuge.”

Connie gave a loving laugh and a playful pat on Colin’s shoulder.

“Good one, Col,” she said.

First a hug, then a nudge, then a shoulder pat and now she called you ‘Col’. This is the night, Colin!

“Oh,” he said, shaking his thoughts away, “good costume. Zombie? You really knocked that one dead.”

Another laugh, another pat. See, Colin thought, puns just comes natural.

“So I’m going to go get back to the game. Good seeing you, Col, let me know if you go anywhere else tonight.”

And just like that, she turned around and headed back to play Quarters. Colin felt like Mike Tyson had walked through the door and gave a solid punch to his stomach, and then to his balls. Colin’s whole body ached with sadness.

Already? He thought. Already she’s ready to hang out with other people? I just got here!

Deflated, Colin turned around and headed back towards the stairs. He knocked into a girl, barely noticing her.

“Sorry,” she said, revealing a Boston accent. A bit of Colin’s beer spilled out onto his and her costume.

Colin didn’t respond, he just kept walking, ignoring everyone as his brain started to spit out poisonous thoughts. As he slowly trudged down the stairs, he started to drain his beer, ready to grab a second the instant he got back down to the ground floor.
He was back in the kitchen where the fellas were still standing, talking to Eric and Tammy.

“Whoa,” Steve said, “she reject the move already?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Colin said.

Steve shrugged as Colin shook his bottle, finding there was no more inside. Without a word, he went back to his backpack in the living room and fished out another beer. He cracked it open and chugged that one as well.

As he drank, a quiet, reasonable voice popped up in the back of his brain and began to debate with his angry, bitter voice.

Hey Colin, take it easy. She was just going back to play a drinking game. You know, the thing people do at parties.

Yeah, but she could have talked a little bit longer.

What, you expect her to carry on an hour long conversation? Go have some fun like she’s having, and you guys will meet up again at some point in the night and-



Fuck this. Just get drunk. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.

By the time this internal debate ended, Colin had powered through a second beer and he got a third. After he twisted it open he noticed a plump girl dressed in a rubbery octopus costume watching him.

The octopus girl raised her drink in salute and said, “Party on.”

Colin nodded back in agreement and pounded away at the beer.

Colin finished the third beer in a minute or two and he got a fourth. He decided he would meet back up with the fellas, in hopes that they could cheer him up.

They were still in the kitchen, though Eric and Tammy were gone.

“Still here?” Colin asked.

Pete shrugged.

“We found a comfort zone,” he said, “And now I can mooch drinks easier!” He raised a plastic cup up and took a sip from it.

“Yeah, if you’re not going to mingle with people,” Colin said, “may as well do it close to the fridge.”

“Cheers, fuckers,” Steve said, raising his beer. The fellas raised their drinks and clanged them together.

For the next hour or so, the fellas stood in the kitchen, talking amongst themselves, occasionally saying hi to a passerby or commenting on someone’s costume. The three beers Colin had chugged in the beginning were starting to take effect, the wonderful lightheaded feeling billowing throughout his head while his shoulders slackened. Soon he had two more beers in his system and was laughing and talking animatedly to the fellas. He would often find himself checking the staircase though, looking for Connie’s zombified form to come strolling down and he even checked his phone to see if she texted him at all. Neither happened, but he was still having a pretty good time.

By the end of the first hour, Colin had seven beers coursing through him and he was already starting to go from happy drunk to hopeless drunk. His thoughts went from wonderful and optimistic and occasionally about Connie to dreadful and pessimistic and constantly about Connie. He got a little more quiet as the fellas joked around about terrible movies they had seen recently.

Suddenly their conversation was interrupted by Dennis, the guy who owned the house and a friend they met through an intramural volleyball team they played on. Dennis, dressed like a hippie, was tall and wiry and his eyes were bleary. He had obviously been smoking pot in some hidden part of the house.

“Hey, hey, hey!” he said, clapping happily, “Here they are! The men of the party!”

“Dennis!” Pete, Steve and Robby all yelled.

“Guys enjoying yourselves? Cool house, right?”

The three of them agreed, gushing about how much fun it all was while Colin nervously checked his phone. Still no messages.

“Well, help yourself to any booze you see in the cabinets. Only rule: don’t shit in any place that isn’t a toilet. I’m not buying another umbrella stand. Chunderbots for life, guys!”

They began chanting the word Chunderbots, which was the name of their volleyball team they had played on together. Dennis was about to walk away when he caught Colin’s eye and said, “Oh, Colin, Connie’s looking for you!”

All the pain, misery and agony that Colin had felt for the past hour suddenly transformed into hope and elation, like a mud drenched truck coming out of a car wash tunnel spotless and sparkling.

“Connie? Me?” Colin asked.

“Yeah, bud. She’s upstairs, watching Mario Kart.”

Colin turned sharply and started walking towards the staircase, feeling a little wobbly as he did. As he made it to the foot of the staircase he saw Connie at the top. She smiled and waved him up. Colin smiled in return and went to climb the stairs when he crashed into someone who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“Hey!” the person said. It was a girl. Colin looked at her, a girl with jet black hair dressed in a equally black robes with a pointy witch’s hat. “Remember me?”

Colin was confused. He didn’t recognize her, but the voice sounded vaguely familiar. She had a Boston accent and it triggered his memory of knocking into her before, when he had been leaving the Quarters room.

“Uh. Kinda.”

Colin looked up anxiously at Connie, who had an eyebrow raised.

“Well,” she said, “I knocked into you earlier and got some of your beer all over you. I felt bad about it, so I thought you could come with me and I’d get you a new drink. To show I was sorry.”

“It’s cool, really, I brought plenty of beer.”

“No, no! I insist, come on.” The girl grabbed Colin and started to yank him away from the staircase as Colin hopelessly looked up at Connie. Connie, confused, started to walk away.

“WAIT,” Colin pleaded at Connie, and he tried to pry the girl’s fingers off his arm. Colin’s drunken brain started firing off into full panic mode. He grabbed the girl’s hand and finally tore it off his arm, a little more roughly than he intended.

The girl froze, her eyes narrowing.

“What’s your problem?” she breathed. “Don’t wanna free drink?”

“No, it’s just, uh,” Colin stammered, humiliated about grabbing her while trying to look to see if Connie was still upstairs, “I just don’t need a drink and you caught me in the middle of something, I have to see someone. Someone I actually know.” The words came out rushed and more angrily than he had hoped, but he wanted to get his message across before Connie got the wrong idea about him running off with some random girl.

“Fine,” she said sharply, rubbing her slightly reddened hand “I hope you enjoy your Halloween. It’s about to get real fun.”

“Sure, you too,” Colin said, already walking away from her and up the stairs.

Colin made it to the second floor where Connie waited. Connie, puzzled, questioned, “Who was that?”

“Dunno. Don’t know her at all. Just some weird chick, wanted to get me a drink.”

“Oh,” she said, shrugging, “whatever. Listen, can we talk?”

Connie led Colin out of the way as he lurched behind her, his inebriated mind going in thousands of different directions.

What does she want why we talk what’s going on who was that girl down there should I kiss Connie what if she kisses me I wonder if I’ll see boobs tonight.

Connie took Colin to a hallway in the back of the second floor and led him into the bathroom.

“Uhh,” Colin said, “what’s going on?”

Connie closed the door.

“I figured this is the most private place in the house. Listen, Colin, maybe it’s because I’ve been drinking for the past six hours, but I’ve been thinking.”

“Four hours? It’s only ten. Jeez, you go hard.”

“It’s Halloween,” she shrugged. “Plus I was pregaming with some friends. Anyway, this is the start of our senior year, so I kind of wanted to clear some things up.”

Kiss her kiss her kiss her no don’t kiss her that’s stupid boobs?

“I know that you’ve….had feelings for me,” she continued, “for a while. And honestly, I’ve had feelings for you too, I just haven’t really acted on them for a lot of reasons.”

Shit shit shit what do I do what do I do boobs boobs BOOBS

“I dunno,” she said, shaking her head, “I’m just a little cloudy. Too many vodka cranberries, I guess.”

She laughed and looked into Colin’s eyes. Colin was memorized, unable to move a single muscle in his body. He tried to open his mouth to say something but instead just gave a loud, forced chuckle.

“I’m just so glad to have you as a friend,” Connie said with a smile, “is what I’m getting at, I guess.”

She opened her arms up and Colin stayed rooted to the spot.

Is she opening up for a hug? What’s going on, what do I do. Hug her hug her hug her.

Colin tentatively crept towards her, opening his arms up as well. They morphed into each other like two drunken amoebas. Colin felt his body going limp in her embrace, the burden of confusion and doubt over Connie lifting itself off him for at least a few brief seconds. He even found his fingers, rubbing her back, as if they had taken it on their own accord to make things happen with Connie.

Colin heard Connie give a long moan and Colin swelled with pride.

Man, if I got her moaning like this with just a hug, I must be pretty damn good at this pleasing women thing.

She moaned again, this time louder and more sustained and Colin suddenly felt a little unsettled by it. This concern manifested into physical pain as he felt Connie dig her fingers into his back.

“Gah!” he blurted out, jumping in surprise, “Connie, what the frick!”

He released his arms from around her and backed away but found she was still clinging on him. He saw her face and immediately started to squirm away in horror.

Connie’s eyes were glazed over, her irises completely blackened. The skin of her face was ragged and torn, like it had been wrecked by weeks of decomposition. The bloody makeup on her face was now running freely all over her, like she had just freshly bitten someone.

Colin noticed her fake wounds were now oozing and also bloodied. She gave another loud groan, her breath blowing all over Colin’s face. It had an unbelievably rank stench, something that smelled like a mix of rotten eggs and road kill. She leaned in towards Colin’s neck and Colin had a sneaking suspicion she wasn’t reach in for a hickey.

Colin pushed her away with all his strength, her arms swinging back up towards him and knocking off his sunglasses. He blocked her swipes and pushed her again, though he was careful to not hurt her.

“Connie!” He shouted, putting his hands up in a kung fu stance, “You’re sick or something, I don’t know what, maybe it’s Ebola, but you gotta stay back! Just remain calm and I’ll take you to the hospital and-”

Colin’s pleas were interrupted by Connie hissing and charging forward her arms outstretched and her rotting teeth bared.

Colin jumped back, his legs hitting something that caused him to tip backwards. As Colin fell, he realized he had backed into the tub and was now falling into it. His body thumped against the porcelain and he was wedged inside the tub, his body shaped like a U.

Connie clumsily fell on top of him, clawing and scratching. Colin was able to fend her off with his legs, her hands harmlessly clutching the silk of his pants. Colin looked for something to try and get her to back off. His eyes darted between a bar of soap, a bottle of conditioner and a loofah, none of which he saw as suitable weapons.

He decided to pick up the bar of soap and chuck it at her head, hoping that it would at least daze her and slow her down enough where he could get out of the tub. The soap ricocheted off her skull, leaving a white smear on her forehead. It stopped her for a brief second and he took the chance to scootch his way out of the tub and on the tiles of the bathroom floor. He flopped over on his back and saw

Connie towering above him. She started to teeter down towards him and Colin frantically slid back. He knocked into something stiff and wooden and turned his head to see the toilet plunger next to him. Colin didn’t know if you could plunge a zombie to death, but he felt like he had no other options.

He grabbed it by its rubber bottom so that the handle was pointed outwards like a sword.

“Connie,” Colin warned, “I don’t want to use this but if you come any closer, I might! You’re sick, we can figure this out, we can fix this and AAAAHHHH!”

Connie ignored every word and swooped down towards Colin. Colin closed his eyes and his arms curled up reflexively. He heard a sickening, wet sound, like someone pulling a boot out of thick mud. He felt some sort of liquid splatter onto his face and he hesitantly opened his eyes.

Connie had fallen face first onto the plunger handle, the handle jutting through her eye and out the back of her decomposed skull. The handle was stained with dark red blood and pale gray brain matter. Her jaw hung open, almost in a look of surprise that she had been felled by, of all things, a plunger.

Colin felt a wave of nausea hit him and he threw Connie off and onto the floor. He crawled up to the toilet which was a few feet away from him and, without even lifting the lid, explosively vomited into it.

Colin had never been more scared or confused in his life. His mind could barely compute what had just happened.

What the hell happened to Connie? Why was she suddenly…like that? And oh God, I killed Connie. I actually fucking killed her.

Colin finally finished vomiting as sweat poured down his face. His panted, out of breath like he had just run a marathon. He noticed with revulsion that some vomit was clinging to his fake moustache and reached up to take it out. He yanked at it and yelped with pain.

He couldn’t take out the fake moustache, because it wasn’t fake. It was real. His moustache was fucking real.

He got up, nearly falling over from dizziness. He went over to the bathroom mirror, stepping over Connie’s body and stared at his reflection. He grabbed his mosutache again and saw that every bit of it was now composed of real honest to God facial hair. He got a sensation in the pit of his stomach that felt like he had just swallowed a bucket of ice.

He looked down at Connie. She had become a zombie, her makeup becoming real blood. Now his moustache was real, no longer the cheap clip on one he had bought at the costume store. And…wait…what was that bulge in his pants?

Colin slowly reached down to his pants and opened them up to reveal what lurked inside. What was once a perfectly average five and a half inch penis was now a ten inch, throbbing monster that stared up at him expectantly.

Colin looked back at Connie. She had become a zombie.

He looked back at his ten inch dick and absently felt at his real moustache.

He had become a 70s porn star.

A huge boom rocked the house and Colin braced himself against the sink. The house was now enveloped in the sounds of screams and yells and objects crashing and breaking. Colin was barely able to hear the knock on the bathroom door.

Colin closed up his pants, trapping his leviathan of a penis back in its silk prison. He cautiously went over to the door and cracked it open an inch to see who was outside.


He opened it fully and saw Steve, whose pasty makeup no longer shined with the waxy look of a makeup job. His skin was now ghost white and his open mouth revealed a large set of pointed fangs that were most certainly not the used butthole teeth they had joked about earlier in the night.

“Colin,” Steve said, as a cloud smoke billowed down the hallway and another loud thrashing sound rang out from somewhere in the house, “what the fuck is happening?”

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Posted by on October 20, 2014 in Uncategorized


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