Unplugged & Unmedicated

Halloween High-Jinx
Written by David M. Muench


I’m sure most of you have dressed up for Halloween, but have you donned your costume other than at a Halloween party or trick-or-treating, such as work, church, or school? I have, and those episodes have been quite memorable.

One such occasion I had a Color Theory class (back when I wanted to major in art) on Halloween and I thought it would be festive yet somehow chic to dress up for the class.
I decided to go Hillbilly, sporting a plaid flannel shirt, really tight stone-washed jeans, my brother’s old knee-high leather moccasin boots with fringes, a rope for a belt, and the coup de grace: A plastic “Arkansas Razorback” hat. Although I don’t know if “hat” is an appropriate term for an immense red plastic boar with a white “A” stenciled on the side and a hole in the bottom to accommodate an unfortunate head.

So I get to school, bound out of the car - anxious to be contributing to one of my favorite holidays – and realized as I was walking to the classroom that I was the only buffoon in costume. No, wait, in the distance I see somebody dressed as Abe Lincoln, but he’s not in my class. Well crap, it’s only a professor.

So there I was padding down the walkway with my moccasin fringes flapping against my leg and the large red plastic boar upon my head that seemed to grow larger with each step. I was vividly aware that I was drawing stares and snickers from passers by. I felt like Howard Stern walking backstage in his Fartman outfit. It seemed that for a transitory moment I was no longer an average Joe garbed in a Halloween outfit but an out-of-work actor auditioning for a part in “Deliverance Part II: The Wrath of Bubba-Khan.”

With a little effort I kept my humor about me, even reverting to a redneck vernacular while in class just to complete the overall effect (humility). After suffering through furtive glances in my direction and stifled giggles I quickly shuffled out of the room at the end of class. Carrying the plastic pig headgear I jogged back to my car and sped home.


One other Halloween a few years prior to the “redneck” event I was working at a fast food restaurant, and decided to dress up….as a woman. Exhibiting a short blonde wig and make-up applied expertly by my sister, padding for surrealistically large boobs, a gaudy necklace over my – ahem - bosom, and a horrid black granny purse the transformation was complete: I was the world’s ugliest woman. I wouldn’t have even dated me.

Arriving at work I sauntered femininely up to the restaurant (I had taken my glasses off to further beguile my co-workers) and as I neared the front door I heard one of them exclaim from inside, “Oh my GOD!”

It was a big hit. A few of my male counterparts kept fondling my breasts and one grabbed my ass, which I thought was really odd. Fortunately I found out that it was a female co-worker, but that just left me confused - yet aroused.
While I collected money at the drive-through window a few women lauded my appearance to which I replied, “Thank my surgeon.”


This next and final Halloween story can be epitomized with these words: “What the hell was I thinking?”
I was but a young lad and a neighborhood girl invited me to her church’s Halloween party. Even as a tyke I was enthralled with this “Halloween” thing. Putting on really cool costumes and getting free candy? It was the greatest thing next to Micronauts and Hot Wheels.

The invitation came as a nice surprise, and although I didn’t realize the implications of my choice in a costume, I can look back now with a smile and wonder again; “What the hell was I thinking?”
I could have been a superhero, like Superman, Batman, Aquaman, or any other “man”, and it would have been just fine. Nope, not me. I think the rationale behind my costume selection was that it was my only costume, so for the church Halloween party I made my appearance as the Dark Prince. Lucifer. Yes, folks, good ol’ David dressed up as the devil. I hear about psychological “warning signs” all the time, and let me tell you that one is now listed in the Guiness Book, baby.

I had a cheap rubber devil mask and borrowed my sister’s black cape, and my own mother actually made a tail for the costume. Not, “Gee honey, I don’t think that’s a very good idea. How about I get an old sheet and you can be a ghost?” But, “Here’s your devil tail, sweetheart. Have fun!” Yeah, have fun burning in hell! I wonder if that would be comparable to having your mother shove raw hamburger meat down your pants and sending you to go play with the bears.

It was like the Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan in full ensemble walking into a Snoop Dogg concert. I couldn’t understand why I was attracting negative attention. It was Halloween for crying out loud. It was only a silly costume, not a theological statement.
A priest began talking to me in some strange dialect, and all I could understand was “Get out of the child, demon!” All during the course of that night, kids frequently tugged angrily at my devil tail. Had I been older and more sardonic I could have retorted, “Keep pulling on my tail buddy and I’ll be seeing you real soon!”

Strangely enough the same neighborhood girl never again invited me to another Halloween party. In fact, I don’t think she ever invited me to anything after that.

I hope these stories provided some amusement and insight concerning Halloween costumes. Remember that what you regret in the past you may learn to appreciate later. Seize each moment with adolescent ardor and never forget what it means to have fun.

And by all means, never, ever, dress up as the devil at a church Halloween party.