As you can see, I am keeping it classy this Halloween. This year’s costume is fictional Chippendale’s dancer Beef Swellington, a.k.a. Magic Ike. I wear silly costumes every year partially because I love to make people laugh, but mostly because I spent many a childhood Halloween in cheap drug store costumes. These costumes consisted of little more than a thin plastic mask with two eye holes, two tiny breathing holes near the nostrils and a slit near the mouth, accompanied by a plastic smock printed to look like your favorite super hero’s costume. I affectionately remember them as “Suffocation Specials.” As a result, I take great pains to be creative this time of year. For example, check out the detail in my Tom Selleck, Ravishing Rick Rude-like ’stache:
When I was in 8th grade my Mom went all-out and splurged on a cool Halloween costume for me for once. She bought me this skull mask that partially stuck to your skin like prosthetic make-up. I looked sinister, which was exactly what I wanted at that age on All Hallow’s Eve. My makeup looked like it was styled by the Devil himself. I also wore an all-black outfit with a cape and a black leather whip they surprisingly had for sale in the same toy store where the skull makeup was. Nowadays, that getup would make me look like some kind of fetish freak in somebody’s cult. Back then however, it was cutting edge.
I rounded up my friends that evening and went trick or treating, scaring little children by accident since the skull makeup looked so real. Once we’d made it through the neighborhood and once I’d grown tired of people’s parents touching my face makeup and subsequently advising me to go to Church and get my life together, my friends and I started on our way back to our block. We were greeted by the stench of rotten eggs and the sounds of older teenagers from the football team laughing and talking in the distance. All at once, they descended upon us, and we began to panic.
I saw some of the adolescent horde reaching into their bags, and one of them was almost within arm’s reach of me. We were all about to get hit with rotten eggs, so I felt like I had to do something. It was now or never. As the closest one moved forward, I pulled out my trusty toy store whip and went Indiana Jones on his ass. I caught him pretty good across his arms and legs a few times before he could get away from me. As soon as he ran, I ran in the opposite direction and the rest of my group scattered.
I don’t know if any of my friends got hit by eggs, but I made it home safely. The best part of the story was that I saw the guy whom I’d whipped the very next day at the 7-11, but he did not recognize me thanks to my skull makeup. I looked at the welt on his forearm and felt a sense of pride, for I had rescued my friends from the horde of evil upperclassmen and lived to tell the tale!
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love the name beef swellington. awesome porn name too btw
Hilarious! I also love the name beef swellington, classy.
That Ron Jeremy p#ssy tickler is scaring me. Reminds me of the first porn I ever saw. I was in high school at a friend’s house and one of the guys broke out a tape that had to have been from 1982. Like they stole it from their parents personal stache of adults only VHS tapes. Or one of those movies that they put up on the top shelf at Blockbusters with titillating titles such as Indiana Jones and the Temple of Poon. The star of this particular video was a scrawny dude that looked like Billy Dee’s understudy in the Colt 45 commercials and he sported a similar mustache as your Beef Wellington’s. I watched with a mixture of disgust and horrified curiosity. It was like looking at a train wreck. I nappy, peasy chest haired train wreck. Thanks for bringing up long buried suppressed memories, Leon.
woooooow @ wooooowwwww
LMAO. TMI, I know. I told him that he pulled up repressed memories. I had to share the horror in order to lighten the burden of that memory.
But see…now I feel like oversharing with you for putting that visual in my head….lmao
Curly Q, I guess I deserve whatever tormented memories you have to unleash. Bring it on if it helps ease your spirit of the images I imprinted upon your pysche. See what you started, Leon! You and your Beef Wellington, Burt Reynolds, 80s porn mustache.