bOOOO

There are a few events that standout on a twenty something’s social calendar: birthday, new years, end of exams (if you’re lucky enough to be in school), valentines day (if you’re lucky enough to be in a nice relationship), and Halloween. These events demand extra attention, extra shitfacery, extra planning, and generally just extra bullshit to augment the usual bullshit associated with a big evening out.

By nine thirty I was in a self imposed sphere of chemtrails and perma grins, staggering south Granville looking for the right bottle of nine dollar chardonnay. Then I bought a mask worth three dollars from Shoppers Drug Mart, it resembled a zombie Mike Tyson with more tattoos and metal facial studs. It was the only mask left in the store besides a werewolf one that looked like it would be sweaty and claustrophobic. The Halloween section looked like it had been ransacked by last minute ghouls. Pieces of candy and plastic skeletons were strewn about the floor.

Later on, approximately halfway through a clichéd viewing of Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas, I took a knife to the long sleeved thermal shirt I was wearing. My costume was now complete.

A big party was happening and I made it. The bus was hellacious. The party was too, but in technical aspects it was probably the best house party ever. I didn’t notice any fights despite the high population of jocks and there were multiple bars and multiple djs on multiple floors. Yet the dynamic nature of the party only lead to my stagnancy; I could be found in a chair on the fringes clutching a perspiring plastic cup.

I left with friends and we tried to go to another party but it was full. We called roadside booze delivery after exhausting all other options. In a fitting close we smashed our pumpkins and I passed out fully clothed on my bed. Halloween was over.