one man’s nightmare is one woman’s Halloween costume

It’s October 1st, which signifies the beginning of my annual month-long search for two friends (or two strangers who are badly, badly in need of money) to serve alongside me as the middle and end of my Halloween Human Centipede costume.  I have been searching for years now and surprisingly, in spite of my offering an outfit, knee pads, beer coozy with neck strap and straw, I have yet to entice anyone to take advantage of my offer.  And what an advantage it would be–costume contest prize winnings, free bar tabs, respect and admiration of friends and fellow party-goers alike?!  Just think, this could be me (and you–email if you’re interested):

I’m at a loss why two people out there wouldn’t want all those things, but whatever, this year I’ve got a new dilemma and that’s whether to pursue the Human Hallowpede or construct a sensitive yet realistic replica of Abby and Brittany.  Clearly, in my state of few to no friends, the Abby and Brittany costume would be preferable, but I’m just not sure I’m ready to give up on my dreams, even if those dreams involve crawling around on the floor with someone strapped to my ass. After all, if we don’t have dreams, what do we have?  The answer is nightmares, which is exactly what Halloween is all about.


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