I had a very, very panicky weekend, as I once again left my Halloween costume to the absolute last minute. "What the fuck am I going to wear?" I screamed at our cat, who, oddly, had no answers. It had to be something I could cobble together with as little effort as possible, because I truly hate effort. It had to be something in which I could still teach junior high school students, who tend to take advantage when their instructor shows up in a sight-line-impaired Guy in a Coffin get-up. But mostly it had to be clever. There is no greater joy in life than laughing in someone's face as I express my pity at the limited intellect that has kept them from joining me in the rarefied group of Mensa-ites who understand my costume.
So I sat down and came up with a list of acceptable costume choices:
Drunk and Belligerent Harriet Miers
A Flu Pandemic
Pre-Cosmetic Surgery Joan Rivers (Would not actually need to do anything but put on a dress for this one)
Estragon Dressed as Henry IV (Oh, the hilarity as Beckett's fool carries around a turkey leg, not realizing that he's mistaken the son of John of Gaunt with the driving force behind the creation of the Anglican Church! Good for hours of laughs!)
George Bush's Sense of Right and Wrong (Just covering myself with dust and cobwebs)
A Jar of Spoiled Mayonnaise
A Hogwarts Special Ed Student
Mr. Rumpled and Unwashed Clothes Guy
A Homosexual Methodist (Just apply liberal doses of hellfire)
Dude with his Balls Shaved
In the end, I realized three important facts that I'd forgotten in all of this fevered brainstorming: 1) My school doesn't allow Halloween dress-up and, in fact, sends students and teachers out the door at a run to avoid--I'm guessing--the legions of the damned that apparently run amok after dark in the Central Bronx; 2) I was taking the day off to see my wife get sworn in as an attorney and 3) I fucking hate dressing up on Halloween. And so, in the end, I went as a 35-year-old dude in a suit for most of the day. Scary.