October 30, 2004


The best part of Halloween is when you finally get that costume all put together and you think, “Hey. Maybe life wouldn’t be so bad as a [insert costume here].” The thought won’t be too jarring if you are to spend tomorrow as a doctor or a cowboy or a vacuum cleaner salesman, but if you have decided to stray into the dark corners of the human mind, you may be in for a shock.

At least I was. I spent yesterday evening dressing up in jeans and a flannel, rolling around in the dirt. I spent this morning kneeling in the front yard wearing the same filthy get-up, splattering blood all over my clothes. This evening I did a dry run with my makeup, trying to figure out what sort of colors and blends will best achieve the effect I’m looking for.

Tomorrow I am not Dane. Tomorrow I get to be an undead zombie trucker. I shacked up with this one girl while passing through a Nevada town. When her husband found out he shot her in the face and ambushed me on my way out of the county. I thought he was a simply a motorist stranded in the middle of the desert so I stepped down to lend him a hand, but he beat the snot out of me and buried me alive. And stole my truck.

Well, that wasn’t the end of it. If you’re gonna kill a man, I always say, make sure you finish the job. Thirty days later my rotten self rose from its shallow grave, undead and starving for the flesh of the living. Now I roam the night, feasting and hunting, hunting for the man who stole my mortality. And my truck.

So then I ask myself, why not go all the way? You’re already kneeling in the front yard, covered in blood and grunting. Why not just become a zombie and start eating people? It’s a strange thought process, as though I have already absorbed enough of the character that making the jump to real life wouldn’t be difficult at all.

Then again, constantly eating people would just become such a hassle. Humans are fast and can be kind of nasty when being eaten alive. I would always have to hunt my own food, seeing as how you can’t just walk into a grocery store and order a couple pounds of human. Restaraunts don’t serve zombie-friendly dishes, so I would never get a chance to dine out.

Yeah. Come to think of it, being a career zombie would be a huge pain. Until the world accepts zombies for who they are, and makes it easier for them to live out their lives peacefully, I’ll be keeping my own zombification as a hobby.

Never though of it that way, however after a long and engaging conversation with a porn star/nurse and a scantily clad biker chick while deep in the mindset (and costume) of Hugh Hefner about the current state of sex in advertising and the ability to extrapolate and carry those trends into our selected market segment, I completely understand where you are coming from. Once in the mindset and looking at the reality of the life of others it can be slightly depressing, on the other hand I did get some free viagra.
Mental note for the night: Halloween/Costume parties in general must be held at least once every 3 months. Reason one, October anywhere in the midwest is far to cold to go out in silk pajama’s Reason two, it is alway’s fun to lose yourself in characters for an evening in an effort to blame them the next day for a hang over. Reason three; It will allow Dane to build up a big enough ghoul population in Oregon so that restraurants will find a market for fresh human flesh.