All Saint's day on an Empty Stomach

I thought it was gonna be terrible. The evening did not start out well. I left work at my usual time 5:30 ish and went home, where I promptly discovered we were out of both Gin and Scotch. I don't know how things got to this point, but they needed to be remedied, so I ran quickly across the street to the Cambridge Market for some booze. I did not have very much money, so I could only buy one. I settled on the Scotch. It turned out to be a very reasonably priced (I am pinching pennies(somewhat)), smoky and flavourful Single Malt, which I can't remember the name of to save my life. After getting the scotch you'ld have thought my evening would improve. And you would be wrong. I went home and began preparing dinner. I did this before pouring my drink, which clearly was the mistake, but I was in a hurry because the Sharkman, The Wife and myself were going to go to a Halloween party/ haunted house. I was making my home-made, from scratch Sloppy-Joes. These are normally fantastic and about 16 times less expensive then already prepared Sloppy-Joe sauce. I began browning and seasoning the meat...it was going great...when all of a sudden, the Nutmeg, which I was conservatively applying, burst open coating the pan, the meat, the kitchen and myself in a brown powdery sticky substance (yes, that is Nutmeg.) I immediately panicked and poured myself a double scotch, neat, before one of the neighbor children got hurt. I had to save the dinner, so I shouvled as much Nutmeg as I could out of the meat before it became too sunk in. Then I added sherry, vinegar and a fuck-tonne of Tobasco to try and balance the flavours out. The unfortunate result was Sloppy-Joes that were better with Catsup. This detered us not, and we scarfed down our meals quickly before jumping out the door.

The Area that we designated to meat is just 2 miles from my apartment, which turned out to be serendipitous, as we had to fly back quickly. See, we were under the impression that since we were going to a haunted house, that we should not change into a costume, ao we arrived in street clothes. Everyone else (granted it was only like 4 other people) was in costume. We felt silly and out of place, and I had no booze. We raced back to the apartment so that we quickly may change. My Wife opted at tis point t ogo as herself, she had been dressed as a clown all day, including makeup, for her class and she was tired of dress, and I don't blame her one bit, If I had had to do that sort of non-sense all day I probably woulden't have gone out at all, but she did. Kudos for you baby! The Sharkaman dressed himself as, and took on the mannerisms of Doctor Strangelove. That was very cool. I threw on my kilt, filled my flask and took on the mannerisms of myself only Scottish. Clearly I was going for a stretch, but hey why not. We then raced back to the place of gathering. We took some pictures, had some cocktails, listened to music and flirted heavily. Finally the night was turning out OK.


We left as a group for this haunted house at about 9:30. I had no idea what to expect, I was told that it was free to get in, so my hopes were not very high, but hey, I was wearing a kilt and had a flask of Scotch, so I was not going to complain. When we got there I was shocked. Let me tell you folks, this place was amazing. It was somebodies house that they had set up into a haunted house. It wasn't overly scary because it was for younger kids, but the design was out of this world. It was a pirates of the caribean theme and this guy had working cannons, working pistols, a sword fight and even a sunk pirate ship made up into his pool. There were many volunteers all dressed as ghouls and skeltens of the deep and there were written and acted out skits. This truly was amazing. I respect the hell out of this guy.

After the show we went our seperate ways with the Sharkman, the Wife and myself heading back home for a nightcap and bed, It is a weekday, and we all work. When we got home though, I realised that I had to clean the kitchen yet, so I set too it while playing a drinking game I just made up called, "everytime a kid outside yells, do a shot." What a neat game, unfortunatly I got to the point where I thought it would be a good idea to pack left over Sloppy- Joes for lunch. Never mind the fact that they weren't very good, and I had no convenient way to trasport them and eat them. At the point of this writing, I am sitting at work wondering if I should risk the eating, or just go hungry till dinner tonight. I think hunger will win out.