Halloween Honeys: Paradise by the Pumpkin Light

Bless me Bloggers, for I have sinned.
It has been one week since my last confession.

You are all very well aware of my dark (or is it dork?) side, so is it truly a surprise that I love Halloween with every inch and ounce of my cannibal corpus and morbid man muffin? Halloween is my “holiday” of choice. You can have your rickety manger, pheasant feast and champagne toasts at midnight - give me my ghoulish gals, fright flick marathons and demonic delights by the pumpkin light. A horror holiday stuffed to the gory gills with paranormal paraphernalia and the idea that the other side of sanity has but one restless night to cut loose – color me blood red, baby, and hang your halo at the door. All Hallows Eve is upon us like a devil dog on a kitten’s cotton throat, and there’s only one thing that I love more than being surrounded by horror, and that’s to be surrounded by whores. Let’s face it; Hells lone night on earth is a leg man’s holiday wrapped like mummy’s mammarys on resurrection day.

Since I was but knee high to a dwarf, I’ve been fascinated by how ladies embrace their vibrant Venus and unleash their private prostitute on Halloween night. Almost like a cellular level contest for the lovely lassies of the land to dress as provocatively as personally possible. No matter how quiet, calm or collected they might be any other damn day of the year, when handed the chance to unfold the temptress inside, they seize it en masse and I gratefully accept the eye candy. Voluptuous Vampires, Naughty Nuns, Nymphomaniac Nurses, Saucy Secretaries, Succulent Super Heroines, sexed up nursery rhyme creations and Pop Tart Princess’ abound - anything to shield their identity or unbuckle the carnal creatures that writhe within. On this one night, a beauty being “dressed like a slut” means that she’s succeeded in her ultimate illusion, tomorrow morning it’s back to Sally Jo Pastry Chef but tonight it’s Sindy Sucksalot in six inch stilettos and a thigh high surprise. For some, it’s the only time they unhinge and wear anything remotely revealing, suggestive or attractive for that matter - and we all know that when a woman feels sexy, there’s a multifaceted overhaul in attitude that stands out like a grain of salt in a pepper shaker. Eternally enticing, like an angels orgasm on Sunday.

I’m an asshole, so I’ve literally never noticed some people until Halloween night when they’re at the peak of their perversion powers. Back in high school there was a wall flower woman who barely made a blip on the hormonal Geiger Counter (or the conversational one for that matter) and yet the minute she showed up at a party dressed in luxurious leg wear and black leather lingerie brandishing a rubber whip - she couldn't get rid of me. I chased her around like she wore a pair of pizza panties until she allowed me to add the pepperoni. She looked like a sadomasochistic Audrey Hepburn of Asian decent (with more beef on her bottom and less crust) so when she lashed me to the bed with said whip, I thought I had died and gone back to hell (good girl gone bad). I most certainly knew her name that next day, but wonder if she wished to have never learned mine, HA! I pawned my soul for a peek at her privates but sure enough, the following day drove her back to the wallpaper, somehow concealing our dirty little secret beneath it– A Halloween experiment between an undead French maid, a blossoming cannibal and a night to be naughty.

Hell, even guys dress like wanton women given half the chance on Halloween, something I too was guilty of back in the Rum-Dumb days of Art College. I dressed up as “Lil’ Bo Peep of the Street” in candy striped stockings, skin tight silken dress of red, fake breasts that spilled out under golden locks and coquettish face paint plastered across my manly mug. Not a pretty picture I assure you, and yet I’ve never had my ass pinched so much in my entire life – TWEAK! So what gives? How did a night of horror become an occasion to doll up and draw out the devils dagger from the sweet side of normalcy? Who cares! Dress it up darlings and let your freak flag fly high above or beneath you this Halloween, and if you see a goateed guy in a red dress, please make sure you rescue him from unwanted same sex advances. Buy him a drink, take him home and tie him to your bedposts - ask his name if you wish; “My name is Cannibal”. Smile shyly and say “It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard good things” and let the games begin.
So what are y'all going to wear this Halloween?

iPod played "Planet Smashers - My Girlfriend is a Vampire" while posting