The foundation of the haunted house began to twerk back and forth intensely, K.O.'ing Cindy and Chad, sending them to the mat and making them begin to question their decision to go trick or treating that year. Or maybe Cindy should have dressed up as the Geico Lizard and Chad could have been Mayhem or J.K. Simmons (and no I'm not joking, Mr. Simmons, if that is your real name.) Chad nearly soiled his beltless trousers while Cindy's apron almost did the first 900 ever (it should have been at the X Games, the flying Tomato would have been like, "Whattttt?! That was gnarly, dude, let's go shred some nards.)
"You have made a grave mistake today, my friends. You should have never knocked on this door at this hour on this particular day of the calendar year. Out of all 365 days, 366 if this was a leap year but it's not but I'm just saying, you know, don't make a federal case out of it, seriously though, I have several outstanding warrants, whatever you do don't call the feds, for the love of Larry Bird (Basketball Jesus, duh), don't alert the feds! Alas, out of all of the days, why would you choose the one that is most likely to get you trapped in a Ghostbusters scenario except you will be wishing you had a giant leaf blower strapped to your back otherwise known as a proton gun even though it's more fun to call it a giant leaf blower and pretend you are Paul Bunyan but he's a gardener instead of a lumberjack? Anyway, hell is coming for you two, hell is gonna freeze over, y'all better run like hell, all that good hell stuff for this spooky holiday, my blood curdled friends, you have made a very unwise choice today." (Weird thought, there should be a sport called blood curdling like curling except instead of a huge stone you use the severed head of a zombie from World War Z and Brad Pitt is the judge; I don't even know if curling has judges but I just wanted Brad Pitt to get in on the ground floor of the sport so he can add it to his headstone. It will read, "Actor, auteur, artiste, husband, ex husband, father to many adopted children, in on ground floor of the sport blood curdling, Zumba instructor, avid boogie boarder")
The old black and white photographs came tumbling to the hardwood in one fell swoop, clashing on the ground and shredding into A Million Little Things, the new Office Space (well at least it has the dude from Office Space, you gotta give me that much. It's a holiday, lighten up, go have a Kit Kat. What if that was Kit Kat's slogan, "Hey, lighten up and go have a Kit Kat, ya goomba." Also in this universe, the big heads at Kit Kat run the Italian mafia which is probably true, haven't you ever had a spaghetti flavored Kit Kat? Bon Appetit! That would be a jaw dropping entry on Shark Food Tank or as I like to call it, Human Tank. Could you imagine the food enthusiast doppelganger of Mark Cuban being like, 'Do you have any red sauce that I can dip this in? I think I need some feta to mix it up. I'll offer you a Subway gift card that I got from my cousin for St. Patrick's Day, a Sports Illustrated magazine from 2007 and whatever I got left in the change drawer in my Honda for 77 percent of the ownership stake in, what did you call it? Kit KatOs...what a terrible, terrible name. It's probably safe to say that you can chalk this one up to a loss... I love your show, Jersey Shore, though. Pauly D needs a haircut, you heard it hear first! Where did Sammi Sweetheart go? Free The Situation.'")
Speaking of the old black and white photographs, something weird happened with them...you guessed it, it's a Night At The Museum situation; they came to life! The old boss from American Gothic came slicing through the air at Chad like a spider monkey and his wife threw a pitcher of milk all over his new salmon-colored Abercrombie and Fitch polo, rendering it basically unwearable for the next big ice cream social in the quad, freshly extracted from her fleet of boss cows. Then she threw a handful of dirt from the Field of Dreams field in Cindy's eyes (don't ask how that old couple came across a handful of dirt from the Field of Dreams field even though that painting is from the Great Depression era (allow this brief tangent...maybe part of why everyone was so depressed during the Great Depression has something to do with the American Gothic painting, like have you really stared into those cold pairs of eyes before? Those devil incarnates stare lasers through polite art museum goers causing their hands to quiver, brochure maps to crinkle and Greek coffee cups to spill on that velvet rope and stain it, then the museum curator comes over and whisper yells at you and you are embarrassed in front of the caravan of senior citizens who are paying the establishment a visit on Senior Citizen Skip Day, which happens to land on Halloween, their favorite day of the calendar year.
Buy Chris's books SPONGE CAKE & WHAT'S IN THE FRIDGE? on Amazon
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