Halloween’s over, and I’ve finally started to reassemble the pieces of my shattered life. It’s amazing how one little coffin-and-spider-construction project can derail gym attendance, laundry completion and sleep.
But man, it was a good party. People danced all night; the booze held out; no one got sick; no one’s costume was ignited by a candle; and even the many, many people who fell down the stairs all emerged miraculously unhurt. Then, at the end, Blelvis showed up. Thanks to everyone who came, and especially those of you who elected not to steal anything. You can find photos here that prove the whole thing happened (and if you have photos of your own, please consider uploading them to Flickr with the tag “fickeween”).
Now! As you might know, this was the third installment of this particular party in this particular house. Unfortunately, it might be the last: the house is on the market, and although the asking price seems to reflect the owners’ relative prioritization of, say, fake Tiffany lamps versus, say, non-leaking roofs, it’s possible that we’ll need a new venue for next October. Please get in touch if you or someone you know has access to a network of abandoned steam tunnels, or parents who are using their retirement to renovate abandoned mental hospitals, or even just knowledge of a cave that stretches deep — deeper than human feet should tread — toward the eldritch horrors at the Earth’s core.
That’s a shame, that house is so well suited for spookification and ghouliosity. You guys view throwing parties as a calling, so I’m sure wherever next year’s party is, it’ll be great.