Previously on NEVER Piss Off A Witch On Halloween
Before Colin could answer, the wooden floor of the hallway split apart as a slimy octopus tentacle crashed through it, twirling back and forth like a cocaine fueled elephant trunk.
“Fuck!” yelled Steve, getting knocked back. Colin ducked as the tentacle swung around in a circle, splintering the walls of the hallway around him. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the tentacle retreated down the hole in the hallway it had formed.
“Was that a fucking squid tentacle?” asked Steve, his eyes practically bursting out of his skull in disbelief.
“Actually, I think it was an octopus,” Colin said, shaking dust and wood chips off his clothes.
“Oh, okay, that’s less weird then,” Steve said, bitingly.
“Whatever man, let’s just get the hell out of here,” Colin said. He stepped out into the hallway, careful to avoid the gaping hole in the middle of the hardwood. Despite this, the floor protested with a loud creak and Colin and Steve found themselves in free fall as the hallway floor shattered like a sheet of ice.
Steve fell onto the floor of the living room with a thump and an exhale of pain. Luckily, Colin fell onto something squishy and soft. Unluckily, he noticed that it was the giant octopus that had just torn the hallway asunder.
Colin found himself inches away from the black, unfeeling eye of the octopus, looking back at him like a round, shiny piece of coal. Colin twisted around to see the octopus was raising its tentacle to swipe him. He screamed and rolled off the octopus’ body and onto the floor, barely avoiding the tentacle’s strike.
Colin was now laying on the floor among a a cacophony of chaos. He could barely believe his eyes as creatures and monsters, who were once simply people dressed up in harmless costumes, were now running around, crazed and ferocious. A fire burned from the kitchen, something having caused an explosion. The smoke was creeping its way around the house, filling it with its acrid stench.
Colin saw a giant Black Widow spider scuttle into the room and grab a firefighter with its front two legs. It reared back and gored him with a pair of fangs the size of field scythes. Following the spider was a futuristic looking robot that Colin realized must have been Eric.
Gone was the embarrassingly boxy and clunky look of his costume, replaced by a sleek, metallic exoskeleton. Cyborg Eric raised a palm towards a doctor in surgical scrubs and a bright laser shot out. The doctor was enveloped in a brilliant flash of red that reduced him to a smoldering pile of ash.
A robotic laugh issued out from Cyborg Eric, who now aimed his palm at the wall. A laser once again shot out, this time disintegrating a hole into the side of the house. Cyborg Eric then mechanically stomped his way out of the hole and into the night. Many of the other transformed people in the party darted out of the hole as well, as if driven to it by magnets on the opposite side.
Colin felt himself getting helped up and looked above to see it was Steve.
“‘We gotta get the fuck outta here!” he yelled over the screaming and snarling that filled the house.
“Aye!” someone yelled. “We need to abandon ship!”
Colin recognized it as Robby, whose face was now covered in rough stubble and whose pirate clothes were dirty and tattered like he had mugged a real pirate from the late 1600s for them.
“Caw! Abandon ship!” Robby’s now alive parrot chirped.
Behind Robby was Pete, who looked no different. Colin thought that the tape attaching the “NUDIST ON STRIKE” sign to his shirt was a bit more neatly put on, but other than that there was no discernible difference.
“God dammit!” Pete hollered, “I had just stolen another drink!”
Dennis, who also didn’t appear much different from before, thanks to the fact that his costume was just a tye dye shirt and a wig, suddenly appeared. The wig was now real hair, flowing behind him as he sprinted into the living room.
“That robot blew up my oven! Not cool, man, not cool! I bet he’s working for that Pig Nixon!”
Dennis now saw the giant octopus sitting in the living room and all color left his body. The octopus writhed around, its tentacles knocking the couch upwards and smashing Dennis’ umbrella stand to pieces.
“Man, you’ve gotta be kidding me. That’s like, the third one this month.” Dennis said, slumping to his knees.
Dennis didn’t have much time to mourn, as the octopus reached a tentacle forward and coiled it around Dennis’ legs. Dennis’ face turned from grief into terror as the octopus slid another tentacle around his top half. With a quick twist and a pull, Dennis was ripped in half, blood and organs exploding outward like the world’s goriest pinata.
“Fuck! This!” Steve shouted over the ear piercing shriek of the octopus and the fellas ran out of the hole in Dennis’ house and onto the grass surrounding it. They turned towards the front, heading back towards the street. Colin looked back at the house, seeing it crumple from within. He also noticed that Little Red Riding Hood was still on the porch, though she was now being mauled alive by her boyfriend who was a real life wolf. Colin tried to turn a deaf ear to her helpless screams, but her screams were just one part of an orchestra of terror.
All throughout the town of West Hills, screams and the booming of apparent explosions rang out. Colin surmised that whatever happened at Dennis’ was happening throughout the town and that there was no safe place to run.
The fellas made it a block away from Dennis’ before they realized they were horrifically out of shape, monsters or no monsters. They bent over, their chests heaving in and out as they gasped for breath. Colin, who now felt almost completely sober, (from fear and from expelling the alcohol out of his body when he threw up) was now hit with the gravity of everything that happened.
Especially what he had done to Connie.
“God dammit, guys,” Colin breathed, hopelessly, “I had to kill Connie. She turned into a zombie, I can’t believe…I just…I had…”
Colin almost began to break down in tears. He fought them off though and instead turned around to hide his face from the others. They all patted him on the back, meager attempts at comforting a person who had just killed the love of his life after she turned into a zombie.
After Colin’s sobs subsided, Pete said, “So, somebody want to take a guess at what the fuck is happening?”
“Well,” Steve replied, rubbing his chin in play thoughtfulness, “I turned into a fucking vampire, Colin turned into a fucking 70s porn star, Robby turned into a fucking pirate-”
“Caw! A fucking pirate!” the parrot interjected.
“-AND THERE WAS A FUCKING GIANT OCTPUS, AND COLIN HAD TO KILL ZOMBIE CONNIE, AND ERIC’S A CYBORG, AND THAT WOLF GUY WAS EATING HIS GIRLFRIEND, SO, YEAH, I THINK IT’S SAFE TO SAY WE TURNED INTO OUR FUCKING COSTUMES.”
There was a long, awkward silence. Even Robby’s parrot felt like it would be inappropriate to add anything.
“God dammit, the one year I don’t go as Batman,” Pete finally said, his voice trembling with sadness.
“So it’s like that Fairly OddParents episode,” Colin murmured.
“What?” Steve asked, “I don’t know what that is, I don’t watch cartoons.”
Colin gave a hard, accusing look at Steve who’s expression softened.
“Fine,” he said, raising his hands in defeat, “that was the first thing I thought of too. Except, how in fuck’s name did we get turned into our costumes? You think some 8 year old asshole with fairy Godparents made a wish?”
Colin could only manage a weary shrug.
“Arrgh,” Robby growled, “this be turnin’ into a mighty shitty night.”
“Caw! A shitty night!” his parrot repeated.
“I don’t want to be a dickhead and ruin the night even more with depressing questions,” Colin said, “but what the hell are we going to do? Just go back to the apartment and take shelter there, hoping maybe this ends on its own. By like midnight or something?”
“Midnight? Is this Cinderfuckingella?” Steve retorted.
“Hey! I’m sorry if I am just brainstorming, I’ve never had a Halloween where an entire town changed into their costumes!”
“Oh, waaaaah!” Steve said, mimicking a baby rubbing his eyes while crying, “You’ve got to stay a 70s porn start forever, I bet you have a huge schlong under there and everything!”
“It is kind of a big now, not going to lie.”
“Aargh,” Robby said, pointing his hooked hand at Colin’s crotch, “your Kraken be plain as day underneath them trousers.”
Embarrassed, Colin bent his legs inward to try and hide the bulge.
“I mean,” Steve began, “I doubt Robby wants to be a pirate forever-”
“-and I sure as shit don’t want to be a vampire forever. I won’t be able to eat garlic knots ever again and I fucking love garlic knots, you guys know that. I won’t be able to go out in the day and how many places are open only at night? Am I going to survive off Wawa hoagies for the rest of my life?”
“You make that sound like a bad thing,” Pete commented.
“That’s not the point! And you, you probably don’t have to deal with shit, your costume was just a piece of printer paper to begin with.”
“Actually,” Pete said, semi-defensively, “I have a newfound hatred for the lack of unionization for nudists and I am determined to stand for it. But besides that, uhh, you’re right. This isn’t too bad.”
“Not to mention the whole “constant need to suck blood for sustenance” thing. I mean, no homo, guys, but all your necks look so fucking delicious right now.”
Not used to physical compliments, the other fellas beamed with pride.
“So I don’t know about you guys, but I want to figure out what the fuck is going on and make sure I’m not going to be a god damned vampire forever.”
“Right,” Colin said, “and how are we going to investigate that? Just wait here to somebody tells us what’s happening?”
As if on cue, they heard a clicking come up from behind them, and they all shot around with a start. They turned to see that it was Tammy from the party, the sound of her cleats clacking on the pavement. She looked a little leaner and in shape and her soccer uniform looked the same, but when she spoke she revealed a much more definitive difference from before.
“Oy,” she said, now sporting a British accent, “did that go bugger up! You blokes got out o’ there just in time. That octopus is a nasty bit o’ work, innit?”
The fellas looked at each other.
“Uhh. What?” Steve asked.
“Oh, come off it, you know what octopus I mean, the only bloody big one at the party then, innit. Any of you gents know where Eric got to?”
“Last I saw,” Colin said, “he disintegrated a doctor and blew a hole in Dennis’ wall. Lost track of him after that.”
“Ain’t that just like him, disappearin’ as things go arse o’er tits. ”
“Uh. Yeah. Just follow the lasers. So you got out of there okay?”
“Me. Oh, just lovely, though I do think I stepped on something as I ran out.”
Tammy lifted her right cleat to investigate and she grimaced.
“Blimey,” she said with a frown, “that’s a mess.”
The others looked at the bottom of her cleat and Colin saw-
“Oh holy shit, that’s the leprechaun guy!”
Stuck on the bottom of Tammy’s cleat was who Colin recognized as the guy dressed in the leprechaun costume, the one who had pointed out the beer pong sign in sheet to the fellas. He was now three inches tall with the spikes from Tammy’s cleat caving through his skull and jutting through his stomach. Tiny strands of intestines hung out of his ruptured abdomen like bits of Twizzler. His green leprechaun jacket was stained with blood and his whole body twitched like the severed antennae of a cockroach.
It was now Pete’s turn to throw up. He stumbled towards the curb of the road and vomited onto the street.
“The what?” Tammy asked.
“It was a guy from the party,” Colin explained, “He, uh, was dressed like a leprechaun and it looked like you killed the shit out of him.”
“Caw! Killed the shit!” Robby’s parrot squawked.
“Quiet ye,” Robby spat at the parrot, “let the man rest in peace.”
“Or pieces,” Steve corrected with a wince, “Man, of all the nights for you to be wearing cleats. Poor guy.”
“Jaysus! You lot are taking the piss out of me!” Tammy said, disbelieving.
“Not sure what that means,” Colin said, “but no, we’re not.”
Tammy put her cleat back down and started to rub it against the sidewalk like she was trying to scrape off a piece of gum. The others started to protest in horror.
“What?” she said innocently, “these are my only football boots!”
Pete could be heard gagging a few more times and a weak splatter of vomit hit the street for a last time.
“Anyway, I need a word with you,” Tammy said, pointing at Colin, “a miss at the party wanted me to say something to you.”
“Miss?” Colin asked.
“Oh, you yanks. Girl. A girl wanted me to say something to you. She caught me on the way out, told me to deliver a message to a chap dressed in 70s garb. She musta seen us talking earlier with Eric, so she musta thought we knew each other.”
“What’s the message?” Colin asked, afraid to find out.
Tammy then stiffened like a plank of wood, her arms and legs seizing up like he had been overcome by rigor mortise. Her eyes became ghost white and her pupils vanished. She stared these dead eyes out into the distance as she spoke in a deep, demonic growl:
“For the offenses you have wrought, this is the terror you have brought, lest you wish this to be eternal, there is a cure most infernal, come to our house on Sycamore, or these ghastly effects shall be forevermore.”
Her body became limp and her pupils abruptly returned. She shook her head, as if she had been dazed, and said, “Oh bollocks, I’ve had too much to drink tonight.”
Then, without another word, she turned and slowly shuffled down the street, apparently exhausted from whatever had just come over her.
“Wait,” Colin yelled after her, “can you, like, repeat that! How am I supposed to remember that!”
Without answering, she disappeared around the corner. The fellas all looked at each other and they were, impossibly, more confused than they had been during the night.
“Okay,” Steve said after a few seconds of silent befuddlement, “what the fuck was that? Who just possessed Tammy to deliver some sort of cryptic riddle?”
“What, you think someone possessed her?” Pete asked skeptically.
“So after everything you’ve seen tonight, that’s the thing you don’t fucking believe?”
“I don’t know. I’m kinda hoping someone just spiked my drink at the party and I’m in Dennis’ bathroom, tripping major balls.”
“This girl who delivered the message to Tammy,” Steve said, getting the conversation back on track, “sure seemed interested in getting your attention.” He nodded towards Colin.
“Aye, most curious indeed!” Robby said, accusingly.
“Yeah, but what, you think I know why?” Colin said defensively.
“I dunno, but that crazy demon voice sounded pretty pissed about something.”
“Yeah, but who could I have pissed off? I keep to myself and-”
Suddenly, it hit Colin. In his mind, he saw a girl dressed in a witch’s costume. A girl with black hair and a Boston accent. A girl who didn’t seem too keen on Colin’s rejection on her offer for a new drink.
“Uh oh?” Steve echoed, “That doesn’t sound like a good uh oh.”
“Umm. I think I remember who I may have or may not have pissed off.”
“Yeah, who!” Pete repeated.
“Aye,” Robby said, “who be t’ lass you be an ass t’?”
“Caw! An ass t’!” the parrot crowed nonsensically.
Steve marched over to Robby’s shoulder, grabbed the parrot and with a sharp clicking sound, snapped its neck. He then punted it across the street.
“Aarrgh,” Robby said, “you coulda just asked him t’ be quiet.”
“No,” Steve said, defiantly, “That would have gotten old fast. Back to Colin, who is this chick?”
“I don’t know her, really,” Colin said, racking his brain, “she was this girl, dressed as a witch. She had a Boston accent. Kind of hot, but she distracted me from getting to Connie, and I may have…I dunno, I guess I told her off and she said something kind of sassy and now I think I may have doomed us all.”
“Ugh,” Steve said, shaking his head, “the one time you grow a set of balls and stand up for yourself, and you get us all transformed into monsters.”
“The real monsters are the higher ups who don’t give us nudists higher wages,” Pete said with authority.
“Whatever you say,” Steve said, “so this girl, the Boston girl, the witch. You pissed her off. So she tells Tammy to send you a message, guess she thought you were friends. Tammy finds us, this girl probably possesses her and now here we are.”
“Right,” Colin affirmed, “and the message was about this whole thing staying like this unless we went somewhere.”
“Aye,” Robby said, “she said ‘come to our house on Sycamore, or these ghastly effects shall be forevermore.’ A ghoulish message, indeed!”
“How did you remember that?”
“When you remember as many sea shanties as I do, you tend t’ remember poems and t’ like.”
“You know sea shanties?”
“Any sea dog worth his salt knows sea shanties! Let me sing you one of my favorites, Bully in the Alley.”
Colin started to pace back and forth along the sidewalk. Somewhere in the distance a woman screamed, thought those had become commonplace for the night. The fellas didn’t even flinch at it, already desensitized to the terror.
“Sycamore,” Colin pondered, walking around to try and get his brain going, “like Sycamore Street, I assume? That’s just a few blocks away from our place on Birch.”
The others nodded in earnest agreement.
“So it’s a house on Sycamore. Anything on Sycamore worth noting?”
There was a pregnant pause as the others considered the question.
“Ohh, shit!” Pete said.
“What, what?” Colin asked.
“Phi Zeta Psi!”
The fellas all made a sound of recognition.
“The sorority house!” Colin exclaimed, “I bet that’s where we need to go! But why? Is that where the Boston girl is, you think?”
“Who the fuck knows. But that’s the only house on Sycamore that literally anybody would give a shit about. We need to get there ASAP.”
It was decided. The fellas all turned towards the end of the street and began their trek to the Phi Zeta Psi sorority house, all of them frightened and unsure of what to expect.
They made their way towards Sycamore Street, which was halfway across town. Along the way, they each found a weapon to defend themselves with. Steve was carrying a fence post he ripped from the yard of a house (“They’re probably dead, so I doubt they’ll mind,” he reasoned), Colin had a large tree branch, Robby had his pirate sword (which was now a real sword and not a mere toy) and Pete stuffed a bunch of rocks in his pockets.
The walk was ten minutes on a normal, non monster filled day, but the fellas found their journey a little longer with so many possible dangers lurking through out the town. They tried to stay in the shadows, slinking about like a foursome of scheming cats in case there was anything big that wanted to kill them nearby.
They passed by all manner of people and things. On 3rd and Warner Avenue, a few ghosts floated by, complaining about how cold they were. On 5th and Chew Street, a glow in the dark skeleton shambled past them, making boner jokes. On 8th and Carver, a freaky clown with a large kitchen knife sprinted by, but (thankfully) failed to notice the fellas because they all crammed themselves into a doghouse to avoid detection. At 10th and Walnut, a man came out of his house to take out some trash, apparently blissfully oblivious to what was happening in the town (“Howdy boys,” he said to the fellas before heading back to the house while whistling a tune). By the time they got to 12th and Baker, a crowd of people who had been set on fire ran past them, screaming shrilly at the top of their lungs. A dragon soared in the air close behind them, revealing the source of their pain.
“Who dresses as a fucking dragon on Halloween?” Steve asked as they jumped behind a car to hide from the passing dragon.
“Maybe Game of Thrones is making them popular again,” Colin whispered.
“In that case, we may get lucky and someone dressed up as a pair of tits.”
The agonized screams slowly dissipated down the street as they disappeared from view, the dragon’s thunderous wings also leaving earshot. The fellas waited a minute, afraid the dragon may circle back around and find them.
“Aargh, do ya think the beastie is gone?” asked Robby, huddled against the others behind the car.
“Jesus, dude,” Steve said, closing his nose, “don’t talk when we’re this close to each other. Your breath smells like Captain Morgan’s ballsack.”
When no sign of the dragon appeared for an appropriate amount of time (ten minutes they agreed was the cutoff) they left their hiding spot to continue silently towards Sycamore, which was just a block away.
As they neared the corner of 13th and Sycamore, Pete broke the tense silence by saying, “Hey Steve, imagine if you had mixed your costume and Colin’s.”
A few chuckles.
“A vampire 70’s porn star?” Steve questioned.
“Yeah. Your name could have been Count Cockula.”
The others laughed again, relishing the opportunity to express happiness and not be screaming for their lives.
The laughter stopped instantly, however, when they turned the corner, as if they had entered the vacuum of outer space. Up ahead, at the end of the street stood the Phi Zeta Psi sorority house, recognizable by its huge Greek alphabet characters that were situated above the front porch. Its facade looked more ominous than ever, the Victorian architecture looming in the twilight imposingly. Thick vines of ivy tangled across its entire frame like dozens of interlocked snakes, as if nature was reclaiming it as her own.
“That be making my timbers shiver,” Robby croaked.
“Yeah, has it always looked that creepy?” Colin asked.
“Oh please. Any house filled with sorority girls probably scares you,” said Steve.
“Right, like you’re not shitting your vampire pants right now.”
Steve only managed a gulp in return.
“Fine,” he surrendered, “it is a tad creepy but it’s night, and maybe the moon is just hitting it at the wrong angle. You know, how some people take bad pictures.”
“Sure. Definitely the moon at an awkward angle. Let’s keep telling ourselves that as we get closer and closer.”
They started walking towards the house, the night eerily still and silent for the first time since they left Dennis’. The only sounds were their plodding footsteps, heavy with fear and dread.
“Well,” Pete finally spoke after they were halfway towards the sorority house, “at least the street is clear.”
As the word “clear” left his lips, the giant Black Widow spider that had been at Dennis’ party bounded over a nearby house and crawled in front of the fellas, standing in between them and Phi Zeta Psi.
“Uh. Shit,” Pete added.
The fellas stepped back, as the spider advanced towards them, its legs making clicking sounds with each step that chilled Colin’s spine.
“Aye,” Robby said, bravely, “leave it to ol’ Cap’n Robby t’ dispatch t’is foe!”
Robby brandished a flintlock pistol and took aim at the giant arachnid. He squeezed the trigger, a weak shot ringing in the air as a car window on the other side of street shattered from the lead ball. The others looked at Robby with incredulity as he sheepishly stared at the unharmed spider.
“God, how were people fucking afraid of pirates back then?” Steve questioned.
“Aargh! Just give ol’ Robby two or three minutes t’ reload. Four, tops!”
Robby then began the arduous reload process, but before he could even fill the pistol with gunpowder, the spider gave a loud shriek and raced towards the fellas. The four of them screamed and scattered around in different directions, like ants under a magnifying glass.
The spider scrambled towards Colin who clumsily tripped. His tree branch flew out of his hand and skipped across the ground, out of reach. He found himself near a car and feebly tried to crawl beneath it. He made it underneath just as the spider arrived, its fangs piercing the ground where Colin once lay. Undeterred, the huge creature simply grabbed the car with its two front legs and upended it into a tree. Colin was revealed underneath, his hands covering his head as if that was the proper defense against giant spiders.
The spider leaned down, producing its dripping fangs outwards when something pelted it in its bulbous behind. It turned, more curious than angered at what tried to hurt it. Pete stood across the street , his pile of rocks in hand.
“Over here, asshole!” he taunted, “Ha! And you guys made fun of my rocks!”
The spider accepted his challenge and practically glided towards Pete, who dropped his fistful rocks to the ground and ran away, arms flailing. The spider was once again interrupted though, this time by Steve who charged towards it with his fence post pointed outward like a jousting lance. The fence post actually found its mark, sticking into the spider’s round backside.
“Oh shit, I can’t believe that worked!” Steve said with disbelief. The spider screeched in pain and rounded towards Steve who was now weaponless.
“Fuck me, I didn’t think this far ahead!” he yelled as he was chased by the spider back down the street.
Colin ran to pick up his stick again and aimed to impeded the spider from reaching Steve. With horror, Colin realized he was too late. The spider leaped into the air (Since when do Black Widows fucking jump, Colin thought) and came down on Steve. Colin closed his eyes, not wanting to see his friend get his insides sucked out by a giant spider, when a bright light flashed across his eyelids, followed by a loud honking sound. He opened his eyes to see what had happened.
Barreling down the street was a large van, its lights blinding Colin. Colin held up a hand to guard against the light and saw the spider was backing off of Steve. The van swerved to miss the silhouette of Steve and turned back towards the middle of the street where the giant spider stood, its legs arched as if it was ready to leap again.
No such escape occurred, as a long tongue of flame shot out from the top of the van, arcing down towards the spider which instantly ignited. The spider gave an ear piercing cry and tried to scuttle away when the van collided with it. A harsh whirr was then heard, following by the sound of the spider being torn apart and its blood splattering all over the street like a scarlet rain shower.
Colin couldn’t believe his eyes as the spider gave a last twitch and curled up into a ball, its body still smoldering and crackling with flame. The van backed up to remove itself from the spider and Colin saw what the whir sound was: a large, industrial sized buzzsaw was attached to the front fender of the van.
“Aarrgh, finally, reloaded!” Robby yelled from far away, quickly looking up from his flintlock and firing it off haphazardly. Another car window fractured harmlessly.
Robby appeared to only just notice the weaponized van and said, “Oh. Who be this?”
The van’s engine was shut off and the lights blinked out, bathing the night in darkness yet again. There was a moment of unbearable anticipation as the fellas waited to see what kind of person drove around a van with a flamethrower attached to the roof and a buzzsaw attached to its front.
The door opened and the person stepped out: a greasy looking man, around forty years old, with a scraggly graying beard and unkempt shoulder length hair. He walked over to the spider and revealed a sawn off shotgun from underneath his dark trenchcoat. He unloaded a few shells into the burning spider carcass and looked up at the fellas, who had grouped together in front of him.
“Hello?” Steve asked nervously, “who are you?”
He spat on the ground and answered in a surprisingly high pitched, nasally voice, “I’m the motherfucker who’s going to save the god damned planet.”