Oh, the stares and whispers started:
“This, my dear, is not a costume party, it’s a birthday party.”
“Omg, I bet she feels so stupid, I know I would.”
“Oh yeah, really, you have a costume party after this. It’s 10:30, like when does it start, 11:00?”.
So yes, I walked up to her and said,
“ Nice bones,” and we laughed because it was a flirt, and stupid.
I offered to buy her a drink, “So, I gotta ask, did you think…”
“Ah no, it’s Halloween almost, right, and I love Halloween, so if there’s a party I dress up unless it’s like a funeral or wedding –unless it’s a Costume Wedding…”
“Omg, wouldn’t that be so cool,” one of the eavesdropping friends of a friend said.
And I thought, yeah it would be. It would probably save a ton of money on Bridesmaid’s and Groomsmen’s dresses and tuxes. Hell, you could go to Target and buy one of those bag costumes for 25 bucks and there you have it, finished.
And then, of course, I had to say to Tammy, who made the first shitty comment about Katrina— Skeleton Lady,
“Hey, did you ever think of having a Halloween Wedding? Do you know how much money you could save on dresses and tuxes? You and Derk could dress up as Frankenstein and the Bride of…”
Tammy replied with the all-powerful, Middle Finger.
But now, since I didn’t want Tammy to be mad at me, I had to buy her a Lemon Drop shot. And since I was buying, I included me and Katrina, Marge, Tom, Derk, Allison, Nick, and two of the friends of a friend I didn’t know.
And that started other people buying and the drinks pouring:
“What next?” I asked Katrina.
“How about a Red-Headed Slut.”
And the Sluts went around.
“How about an Absolute Bitch,” she said.
And the Bitches went around.
“How about a Smurf On The Rag,” she suggested.
And the Rags went around.
By 11:30, after the shots finished flowing and the not-so-dirty-dancing kicked up, everyone was like:
“Shit we fucked up, why didn’t we dress up”
“Hey, we coulda had a Birthday slash Halloween Party.”
“I haven’t dressed up since I was a kid.”
“Shit, this coulda been so great.”
And then everyone got bummed out except for Katrina, who just smiled and said,
“Good seeing you all and thanks for the drinks, but I gotta go cuz my Uber is here, and the Halloween Party I’m going to starts at 12. You know, what some people call the Witching Hour.”
**All the shots mentioned in this piece are real. Links to recipes provided upon request.
David Calogero Centorbi is a poet who in the 90’s earned an MFA In Creative Writing from the University of Arizona. Now, he is a poet working and living in Detroit, MI. Recently published work in The Daily Drunk, Dreams Walking, Versification, Brown Bag Online, Horror Sleaze Trash, Anti-Heroin Chic, Crow Name, and Crepe & Pen. He can be found here on Twitter: @DavidCaCentorbi