Monday, October 31, 2011

Gawk at the awk: Halloween Edition


My senior year of high school, the school put on some serious lecture about drinking and driving on prom night. As we all know, prom is the absolute pinnacle of your life. My group of fourteen friends put more thought and strategic planning into our prom night than most military strikes of the twenty-first century. We didn't have time to drink, with our schedule planned out in fifteen-minute increments. But apparently drinking is "a thing" for high school kids. After the lecture in the auditorium, the school wanted a set-up of a drunk driving crash out in the front lawn. They even got two busted up cars impounded and put on the property.

And then they gave the advanced theatre kids stage makeup and a bucket of blood.

You never give theatre kids buckets of blood. It's like feeding the gremlins after midnight. Chaos.

Even though we only needed three people for the car crash scene, we all got our hands on the makeup. I originally started out with just a black eye. Then I decided some brutal road rash across my cheeks would highlight my rosy complexion. A scrape on my forehead and bruise from bouncing across the pavement? Perfect. And the piece de resistance - a slashed jugular oozing blood down my sweater.

I was now, in fact TOO bloody for the car crash. As the students trickled out of the auditorium to the grim scene, the handful of us not in play lurked around the corners, laughing. I also noticed that the two cars clearly came from different accidents - the damage was all wrong and their positioning made no sense. The lack of realism made it utterly unbelievable for me. No one else noticed.

The final bell rang shortly thereafter, and it's not like we were going to WASH IT OFF before going home. We proudly trekked through the halls, dripping blood and shrieking, further solidifying the theater freak stereotype. But the only thing we cared about was BRAAAAINS.

My poor unfortunate freshman brother hid behind his bookbag when he met me in the parking lot.

"Walk faster. Can't you ever be normal?" Nope, not possible.

We drove home without incident, and I relished every stop sign to wave at horrified pedestrians. I arrived at home, thrilled to run in and scare the bejezuz out of Lady Mum. She was going to freak out. Total meltdown. I flung open the door -

"Oh R. Grace, I hope you didn't get any blood on the car. Do you want me to take pictures for you?"

Typical.

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