Sorry about that. The inner-old-man I channelled during the three months I spent stuck on the porch last summer escapes every so often…
Let’s continue, shall we?
The various decorated-by-each-department-pumpkins in the lobby are already rotting and attracting fruit flies.
The streets are being cleaned of vomit and feather boas and assorted costume leavings.
I stepped over the ood beer/alcohol bottle on my way to work.
Decorations are already hanging low on more than one home.
There was an unconscious Red Riding Hood in the lobby an hour ago who appeared to have been rode until she turned red. (Love the imagery? I’m a gifted mad genius.)
Incidentally, what’s the deal with Red Riding Hood anyway? She appears to be gaining momentum over French Maids, the “Sexy Ebola Containment Suit” (yep), Slutty Cop and even Naughty Librarian. Are men – and many women – really that attracted to the “lost little girl on her way to Grandma’s house” concept?
Scratch that… another Red just stumbled through the lobby, her hood barely clinging to her bustier, which is barely clinging to her petite, yet-defintely-ample chest. I think she lost her fight with her Big Bad Wolf – which actually means she won. The contents of her basket of “goodies are clearly visible; grandma would be shocked by the booze and the sheer size of Red’s “little still-buzzing friend.” Guess her… “eyes” (?) are bigger than her stomach. Or something like that?
Never mind my pondering.
Happy Morning-after Halloween, kidddies…