Halloween is my favorite holiday.
Yesterday, the guy in line ahead of me at Duane Reade was doing a little last minute Halloween shopping. He bought a big bag of mini-Snickers bars, a huge bottle of Children’s Nyquil, and a massive container of Astroglide.
Halloween’s probably his favorite holiday, too.
The more I thought about, the less likely it seemed that he could conceivably be doing anything with those purchases that wasn’t gross and illicit. Absolute best case scenario is the mini candy bars and the lube were for some sort of midget orgy, and the kiddie Nyquil was for his sick child and totally unrelated. Even that’s a bit sketchy.
I kind of wanted to ask him what the plan was. I mean, that’s not like throwing a Roofie in someone’s Cosmo... this was going to necessitate some finagling. Like, maybe you lure the kid in with the candy, invite him in for some apple cider and then mix the Nyquil in there? That seems pretty iffy.
Maybe you put the Snickers at the bottom of a glass filled with Nyquil and tell the kid he has to chug it to get the candy. That seems more feasible.
Maybe he was going to take the Nyquil himself, get a little buzz going, chill out, have some candy, and kids these days are just really promiscuous and I don’t know about it.
I may never know the answer.
So... once a year, a parade of sheer insanity takes over the streets of Manhattan... scantly clad revelers loudly parade up 6th Avenue, terrifying and amusing children and adults alike with their ridiculous costumes and lascivious acts...
But Gay Pride won’t be for months, and in the meantime we have to settle for the Halloween parade.
This year I celebrated by going to the parade with Alabaster, who dressed as his father circa 1977... apparently his father looked a lot like a gay, disco dancing drug dealer in 1977, and Muffin who came dressed as Holly Golightly from Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
For those of you who couldn’t make it to the parade this year, let me just tell you that there were at least a hundred Borats, a couple dozen K-Feds, a handful of Steve Erwins and a vagina. The vagina I think was the best costume at the whole parade. The guy had made it himself out of felt and fur. He was all cozy and warm, wrapped in his giant labia with his little clit cap on. It was adorable and horrifying and hilarious.
The evening was slightly downcast, however, because my little Neeches hasn’t been feeling very well lately. You know in The Adams Family when Morticia has a baby boy and he gets "fatally ill", and this is witnessed by the fact that his cheeks get rosy and he starts liking Dr. Seuss and quits smoking? I was hoping if Nietzsche ever got sick it would be like that. I’d come home one day to find him covered in soft fur, playing with a ball of yarn rather than scowling in the corner, waiting to scratch my eyes out.
Sadly, his actual illness seems to more involve crapping all over Anoosh’s apartment and a runny nose.
Not quite as cute as I was hoping for.
