Prom of the Dead

After the heartbreak montage from my last post, you may be relieved, dear reader, that I’m trying Halloween again. I got invited to a party that’s happening soon! In fact, I need to put down the laptop and get dressed right now!

The friend who invited me as her guest is sick, so I’m flying solo. I know a few of the people who’ll be there, though. Plus, I’m in a new city, so I’m a new Nicole. The Nicole Who Isn’t Afraid To Show Up And Party With Strangers.

I also have a new coping strategy. (Not booze. That’s an old strategy.) I have a mask that entirely covers my face!

I found a prom dress yesterday, with sleeves like floral velour puff pastries. I also found a cherry red jumpsuit with pockets and fierce shoulder pads. The top part of the suit is arranged in flattering polyester ripples. The suit is clearly designed for someone with a shorter torso, but if I slump a little, it fits!

My initial thought was to be Prom Zombie tonight. When I rolled into the Value Village to find a zombie headpiece, though, they were fresh out. The place was mobbed. A few people were checking out with carts of everyday thrift store fare, like slacks and lamps. But most of us had a witch hat or handcuffs or a skull mask in hand.

Zombie: out. Plan B: a creepy skull mask with a black hood that I realized later is a nun’s habit (with a beige band instead of white. I guess it’s hard to keep the whites white when you’re buried then exhumed). The accessory is labeled “Sinister Sister,” which makes me like it all the more.

The skull still has most of its teeth, though they're a haunting shade of peach rimed with paprika/fire cheeto red.

And I just noticed a design flaw: there’s no opening for the mouth! See, I will be on my best behavior.

It takes some doing to be undead.

My usual party strategy is to stand by the food table and talk to the foolish folk who make eye contact with me until they find an excuse to leave (“hey, I promised my friend some cocktail weenies, so, uh, nice talking with you”). With my face obscured, at least till I get hungry, I can stand like a silent, creepy sentinel wherever I like.

Tomorrow morning, the Monster Dash 5k in Manito Park. Might bust out the red jumpsuit for that one. I’m not so sure about running in a skull habit that obscures my Gatorade-hole.