LIFE IS A MASQUERADE

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (11-03-22)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

 
     Last weekend we went to a fun Halloween party with our friends Mark and Laurie, and I know what you're probably thinking: "Aren't you a little old for that kind of thing?" And to that I say, "Yes." Here's where you're expecting me to say, "HOWEVER," and say why Halloween is fun for children of all ages, etc. But really, I'm just in it for the candy, plain and simple, plain and peanut.

     The hardest part is figuring out what I'm going to be. Being me is hard enough for people to put up with. Furthermore, any costume I put together has the Dolly llama to be compared with. That was the time when I went as Dolly Parton, with my acoustic guitar as an accessory, except that my face was that of a llama, which I constructed out of my wife's bathroom rug. My llama face had a movable mouth which I controlled with a string, and I could accompany myself on the guitar in a chorus of "9 to 5" or "Jolene." Picture it in your mind, if you will, and if you won't it's probably for the best.

     Two weeks later when my wife asked me if I had any idea what happened to the bathroom rug, I had to tell her the truth. "Honey, I think we may have been robbed. That was probably a Persian rug, and it could have been very valuable. We were no doubt the victim of a cat burglar, my guess is it was a Persian cat."  

     I always think of a better costume the day after the party. I won't tell you what I was this year because it was kind of dumb, but I had to fashion a war service medal, and I needed a metal piece from one of our light fixtures. "No, Honey, I don't know why we always get robbed this time of year, but don't worry, next Halloween I'm going as Sherlock Holmes, and I'll get to the bottom of this."

     I love a good party, but I've always wanted to be invited to a real masquerade ball. You know the kind of affair I'm talking about, with beautiful women dressed as Queen Victoria, wearing an exorbitant wig, holding up a flirtatious eye mask, her husband dressed as a handsome viscount, whatever the hell that is. "So, madame, who am I talking to? All I can see are your eyes, but I feel like they are looking straight through to my soul. It's like you can see right through me, and somehow know that I got my viscount costume at a discount. Did you make that mask yourself?" "No, it's a certified N95 mask I got on Amazon."

     You know that if someone invites you to a costume ball, it's going to be big, expensive, and the food's going to be top-notch. You know this for a fact, because no one wants to be known for their small balls. But if I was invited, would I even go? It could be dangerous, because at every costume ball I've ever seen on television or the movies, someone gets killed. And there are always two people dressed in the same costume as the killer, which creates a whole lot of confusion and mayhem. I guess if I want to play it safe I'll dress as a gangster, carry a violin case, and you'll just have to guess whether there's a machine gun in there or if I'm just planning to kill you softly with my song.

     If you want to enjoy a successful evening I have some tips for you: 1.) Avoid anything served in a cauldron. Yes, it's probably just chili, but if somebody spits out the eye of a newt, you'll think of me kindly for once for warning you. By the way, I see a lot of newts bumping into things towards the end of October, because depth perception suffers with only one eye. 2.) Remember that you're eventually going to have to go to the bathroom. I always manage to overlook that simple fact when designing my costume, and it results in me eventually tearing a hole in something that shouldn't have a hole in it, and then I have to cover it up with something inappropriate that dropped off of somebody else's costume. 3.) Don't drink too much at the party. Have you ever been stopped by the police dressed as a policeman? It's probably not going to go as well as you thought it would.

     It seems like at every Halloween party I've ever been to, I end up watching a Yankee playoff game in a crowded room with a television set. While all the Mets fans are having a good time forgetting about baseball, dancing in the other room, we're looking glum because the Yankees always lose on the Saturday before Halloween. It results in sore dinosaurs, morose monsters, pessimistic pirates and woeful wenches. And there's some sad things known to man, but none truly sadder than the tears of a clown.