Zombie Encounter before a Halloween Party

For the past couple years, I've had my Halloween party a couple weeks before Halloween.  It's convenient because it doubles as a dress-rehearsal for everyone's costumes.  Since I'm OCD and everything has to be custom to my specifications, the costumes are rarely finished by this point, but having a party is incentive enough to get them as close to ready as possible.  They get tweaked over the next couple weeks when we go out to Oak Lawn, parties, etc.

So anyway, I borrow a lot of decorations for inside from my friend Shanna (also a Halloween nut).  There's no problem since she doesn't decorate until Halloween day and only leaves the stuff up until the Trick or Treaters are gone, then takes it down before she goes out that night (read: lives in a bad neighborhood).  I'd already gotten a lot of her stuff back to her after our party, but there was still more that she needed back.  I literally get two carloads from her every year, and I have a Prius (read: I have a huge cock).  It's a hatchback, and I still fill it up at least twice over.

Halloween day I'm bringing back the last of her things.  Also, I'm running to the dollar store near her place for additional plugs in an attempt to overload my circuits come dusk (or "twilight" if you're 14 and/or gay).  I had spotlights all over the yard, plus a giant blacklight fixture, plus lit glowing skulls on the roof, and a lamppost, all running through nearly three hundred feet of extension cords off of a standard two-outlet receptacle.  I'm not exaggerating.  (Note: I added a second outlet since then, so it should be less of a spider web next year, even with the new projects).

Although I'd done some things in the yard for the party a couple weeks earlier, I'd added a lot to it since then.  At this point I've got to get all this shit plugged in and fine-tuned before the kids start knocking in a few hours, so I'm rushing back to my place to get everything set up when I see a couple Mormons on bikes heading down the street less than a block from my house.  I'm laughing to myself when I imagine what they must have thought about my yard, but when I get inside, my partner Dani tells me they actually made it halfway up the walkway.  See, we leave the front door open a lot of the time and there's a glass storm door that stays closed.  As soon as our dog Gus (a German shepherd/akita mix) saw them, he let out a big bark, and they high-tailed it back to their bikes.  I guess they thought Devil Dog, the hound of Hell lived here.  I say they gave up too easily.  St. Peter's going to be like, "Hey, I could have let you in if you'd just saved another heretic or two.  What happened?"  Them: "Uh, a dog ate our homework?"

I guess it's redundant to say they're weird based on their behavior.  That's a given knowing their ideology, but the ones around here are very, very strange.  I really don't get what they're doing.  I see them riding around my neighborhood all the time, but they rarely ever stop anywhere.  They definitely aren't going door-to-door.  I'm sure my place was targeted on Halloween only because of the decorations, although one time well in advance of Satan's birthday they rode up and offered to help with anything we needed done around the house.  I was outside with both my partner and my friend Kristin at the time, and I'm like, "Uh, no.  We're good."  They would NOT leave.  We finally just started ignoring them and they stood there for another five minutes before they shuffled off.  You want to talk about zombies?  That's some scary shit.

Copyright 2011 the Ale[x]orcist.