October, 2011

What Happens if You Get Scared Half to Death Twice? (Steven Wright)

I'm a sucker for a good Halloween gig.

Every year I would hand out bags of toys, candy bars, and let the kids roam through tables of "gently used books that need a good home." When Ducky and I got married, he happily embraced these habits rather than let the kids just grab a handful of mini Snickers and Milky War bars—though I understand the first year that I rented out my house in Silver Spring, the tenants had a hard time that Halloween when the kids were heartbroken to find there were no books. (I made arrangements to drop off several boxes the next year.)

Abby's friend Misty, the talented makeup artist and little theatre goddess, was involved in conventions like I was. We actually crossed paths a couple of times over the years, though she was usually helping with the costume competitions and other entertainment. I already planned on going to Beastlycon, a horror convention with a fondness for old movies and TV shows—and when I heard they had snagged Jonathan Frid, Lara Parker, David Selby and Kathryn Leigh Scott from Dark Shadows I knew it was probably the last time we would get to see many of these people on this side of the veil so I dug out my old scrapbooks and got ready to get some autographs along with selling some choice books in the dealer's room.

I did not plan on being shanghaied and stuffed into a costume for a haunted house. But, then, neither did Ducky. Or Abby. Or Chanda and her girls. Or Valerie. Or Geoff…..

Misty was on the committee for Beastlycon. Having been on committees, I know how much fun it can be to find enough volunteers for programming. Volunteers become voluntolds, and you trade favors, promises, blackmail, rights to future children, anything to get the job done. So when Misty was desperate for extras to roam around the haunted house, I sighed and said yes and gave her number to everyone I could think of. (Besides, this way she would owe me a favor—and the more warm bodies I could wrangle, the better that favor could be.)

Plus, it was for sweet charity. Money taken in for admission would be donated to a local children's charity that Misty was also on some committee for. I swear, the woman doesn't sleep.

So, Sunday found me wandering around in a filmy white gown, covered in clown white makeup with blood red lips and sunken eyes, carrying a gorgeous candelabra. One of Dracula's brides, I guess. Geoff got to work on his standing still skills; dressed as Frankenstein's monster, he stood in an alcove that you couldn't see until you were on top of it…then he would lean out and give a moaning roar. Scared the wadding out of me the first time I saw him. Abby? Abby was a mad scientist. How fitting. Stuck in another "room" further down the way, she was doing some sort of dreadful experiment on a couple of volunteers out of my circle of friends.

Ducky? Oh, my dear Ducky… He was hidden in a bodysuit of foam rubber, a hunchback with lumps and bumps, and clad in raggedy bits of burlap. He was limber enough to drag around and give Lon Chaney a run for his money, and looked quite creepy.

Early in the day Misty was in charge of chaperoning some of the groups of kids from the charity group through the show. They had wandered past Geoff (with the appropriate screams, shrieks, and giggles) and she brought them into the large room where the player piano was thumping out a dreadful dirge and I wandered around mournfully. They broke up, exploring the room, and Ducky slipped in from the secret panel, causing one little girl to stop in her tracks and stare at him, her eyes like saucers.

He hunched over and gave her a sad look. "Are you lunch?"

She cocked her head, puzzled. "Lunch?"

He patted her arm gently. "Are you my lunch? They promised me lunch. I'm so hungry…" He cocked his head. "Are you my lunch?"

She took him by the hand and started leading him toward Misty. "Let's find your Mommy. I'm sure she will give you lunch."

Ducky couldn't think of anything else but to stammer a thank you. I had to duck through the secret panel to hide my giggle.

And for months after at work, Abby called him her lunch and refused to explain the joke. Inquiring minds wanted to know, and they went nuts.