BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

If you’ve been reading this blog for any period of time whatsoever, you already know that I’ve made no secret of the fact that E K and I were married on Halloween, way back in nineteen-hundred and eighty-sevum…

For several years afterward, in addition to treating ourselves to a night out with dinner and all the trimmings, we would either attend – or on a number of occasions hold ourselves – a costume party. Sort of a combination Halloween Costume/Anniversary bash. There was even a stretch where the parties had “themes” to coincide with the number of years we had been married. Of course, life can tend to get in the way, as we all know, and those parties have gone by the wayside. We’re seriously considering resurrecting them, but not this year.

Still, I thought it might be fun to dig through the archives and see what we had in the way of pictures of our costumes back in the day. Of course, nothing will be able to top our 1987 Bride and Groom costumes pictured above.

Unfortunately, as I began digging I discovered that many of our costumes over the years were never photographed with our own cameras, therefore we have no pictures of them. Someone out there does, I’m sure, but that doesn’t help me much as far as this blog is concerned (LOL). So, I will see if I can rattle off the costumes I can remember, and post the scant few pictures I was able to find.

I’ll tell you up front, a not so surprising theme starts to develop…

1986 – Shortly after moving in together we attended a costume party at the apartment of a couple we knew. Being on a tight budget we used whatever we had on hand – E K was a Dominatrix and I was her Slave. I somehow doubt it surprises anyone that The Evil Redhead already had the necessary clothing and props to pull this off…

1987 – The wedding, pictured above. E K reprised her 1986 costume by attending as a “Dominatrix in White.” Me? Well, I officially became her Property in the eyes of the law. Trust me, she has a piece of paper from the State of Missouri to prove it.

1988 – We attended a MAJOR costume party at the home of a friend of one of  E Kay’s co-workers. This was one of those legendary, long-running, gi-hugic bashes with overflowing attendance, plenty of booze, and a costume contest that required knowing the right people in order to wrangle an invite. Fortunately, we did.  E K was a Dominatrix Cop and I was her Prisoner/Punching Bag.

We weren’t flush with cash at this point in our lives, however we both had good jobs with steady paychecks, and we were keeping the bills paid – and had a little extra. Given that, we used some things that we had on-hand, but also invested in some props and other accouterments to really jazz up the costumes. This involved some trips to surplus stores, toy stores (back when plastic toy guns actually looked like the real thing), and even some sewing. Of course, E K already had the leather skirt and stiletto heels on hand, go figure.

The Evil Redhead spent the entire evening dragging me around the party by my shirt collar or by the handcuffs she had slapped on me (and didn’t take off for several hours). To the delight of the other party goers – and her own as well, I suspect – she kicked, stomped, slapped, beat, and threatened me the whole night as well.

Some of the attendees, while realizing we were in costume, actually thought E K was a real cop, albeit a very mean and nasty one. By remaining in character we were nominated as finalists for the costume contest, which in and of itself was a major accomplishment. When it came time for the vote and the nominees were brought into the center of the party, E K played it up like a pro by slapping me around some more, yelling at me, then tripping me and holding me to the floor with her foot on my chest while posing for countless pictures taken by the applauding crowd. (Not the picture shown here. That one was taken pre-party.)

In the end it paid off. We tied for the win. Actually, the host had previously had a single winner at the parties so he only had one prize, but this particular year he created a single and couple category. We won the couple category hands down. The prize? The winners (single and couple) split a case of Budweiser longnecks. Hey, a 12 pack is a 12 pack, and it’s even better when you don’t have to pay for it.

1989 – 1993 – Costume parties were sporadic during this period. When we did happen to attend one, we resurrected the Cop/Convict, Dominatrix/Slave outfits because we had them on hand. Although, there was one particular party where E K donned a long, frizzy wig and some sixtiesish garb and went as a flower child. For some long forgotten reason I was costumeless at that particular shindig.

1994 – The themes start taking shape. Our costumes that year were simple, but effective. It was our 7th anniversary so we held a huge party. We both wore gray sweatshirts done up like jerseys with a huge number 7 front & back and our names across the shoulders. Of course, our names that night were Itchy and Scratchy. We rented the classic movie “The 7 Year Itch” and played it in an endless loop during the shindig.

1995 – In keeping with the “numeric” theme idea we needed to find something that worked with 8. Being Halloween and all, spiders seemed to fit the bill.

We went with a Bride & Groom sort of idea, but turned it into a creepy “Black Widow” and her bitten, corpsified prey sort of thing. E K looked smoking hot in her long, black lace gown, of course. She also added the red hourglass marking for effect. I did a tux shirt and tie, then she covered me with the fake cobweb stuff and little plastic spiders. As an accessory decoration – one that freaked out many of our guests – we had a huge, twine spiderweb strung up in the exposed rafters of our living room, and in the center was a gigantic, 3 foot wide rubber spider hanging over everyone’s heads. We added to the ambiance of the Addams Family/Muenster Household decor with strategically hidden coolers filled with dry ice to generate a misty fog.

1996 – Anniversary number 9. I have searched high and low for pictures from this party and can find none at all, which is a total bummer. E K focused in on the whole 9 = 9 Lives sort of thing, so our costumes that year were “The Cool Cats.”

The evil redhead did the black turtleneck and leggings thing, with a black cat tail and cat ears sticking up around a beret. I was in similar beatnick garb with an orange tail and ears. I had a toy saxophone hanging around my neck, and we both had our faces painted with whiskers and were wearing cheap sunglasses.

1997 – The big 10th anniversary, and to be honest it snuck up on us. The only quickly doable theme we could come up with was the children’s song, “10 Little Indians.” Not exactly P C, but we were in a rush. We picked up a bag of tiny little “Indian” dolls at a party supply store and sewed 10 each to the front of our shirts. I know, not exactly inspired, but like I said, we were in a rush.

1998 – 11 years and going strong. We had absolutely NO clue what to do with the number 11, so it turned into a free for all. Any guesses on our costumes? Yeah, Dominatrix and Slave. See, I told you there was a definite pattern developing…

That was the last costume party we hosted, and the last one we have attended to my recollection. As I said, we are considering a revival, perhaps next year.

Any bets on what our costumes will end up being?

Hey, I’m not complaining. E K would REALLY hurt me if I did…

Happy Halloween – Samhain – Great Pumpkin Night to all!

More to come…

Murv

Yep… You would think that considering the books I pen I would eschew getting myself involved in any more mysteries than are absolutely necessary. After all, making them up, plotting them out, and then attaching them to paper through the use of words should be enough for one guy, correct?

But no… Leave it to me to get myself involved in a murder investigation here at home.

So, let me explain the event leading up to this homicide for you:

I was making one of my daily trips to the library (yes, that would be a euphemism- library, can, throne room, crapper… take your pick.) Anyway, there I am, reading through the latest issue of Missouri Conservationist when over the top edge of the magazine I spy something. At first, I thought nothing of it, but that only lasted a second or two. You know how it is – you see something and it doesn’t quite register at first, but then after a heartbeat or so it smacks your right between the eyes… Well, that’s pretty much what happened. So, lowering the magazine, I took a longer look.

Lo and behold, there on the back corner of the bathtub, not quite covered by the shower curtain, are Barbie and Ken. Now, I’m definitely no prude- if you’ve read the Miranda Trilogy, you know that to be true- however, I have to admit that I blushed. You see, Barbie, in all her curvaceous glory, was grappled with the buff eunuch in a “girl-on-top missionary position”. It was obvious that they had been swimming in the bathtub at some point because Babs’ long, flowing, nylon hair showed signs of having dried without the benefit of combing or detangling. Ken, on the other hand, had little problem in that department, what with the helmet hair and all, but I digress. The point is, putting two and two together told me that after some frolicking in the sudsy surf, the two had apparently become amorous and, well, needed to do some business. Perfectly natural. Basic carnal urges and all that… So, all good…

At any rate, as I said, I blushed, then went back to reading about hummingbird feeders while making it a point to finish the article and all my business associated with the reading of said article a bit more quickly than usual. I mean, I seriously doubted that the two love birds really wanted a spectator, know what I mean? (BTW, due to Ken’s general lack of endowment, I didn’t bother to offer any contraception. I suspected it probably wasn’t needed.)

Okay, so now we fast forward to the next day. Here is where the crime scene comes into play…

As expected, I needed to once again visit the library. Just one of those other natural urges. This time I think I was planning to read the local school district newsletter so I would be up on any bond issues, or things I might need to know which would affect my child’s learning. I pretty much figured Babs and Ken would be done by now, so I was feeling pretty safe in selecting one of the longer articles to read. Of course, as we all know, the best laid plans of mice and Murvs, yadda yadda…

Upon entering the library, naturally my eyes were drawn to the porcelain beachfront where the two fashion dolls had been making out. Not because I am a closet voyeur or anything, I just wanted to be certain they were finished so that I could in fact indulge in reading the lengthy article without feeling rushed. What I saw this time was less a scene from a skin flick and more a horrific tableau from a slasher movie (or, one of my books even…)

Ken’s rigid body was laid out in the very same spot where Babs had been…ummm…uhhh…”mounting” him. However, like I said, it was his body. The poor plastic eunuch’s head was sitting several inches away, quite obviously separated from the rest of his buff plasticness, and it was staring dully at the ceiling.

Well… Being a curious author of suspense thrillers that usually involve some type of gory murder, I felt compelled to investigate further. Using the rolled up newsletter to carefully push back the shower curtain (I didn’t want to disturb evidence like fingerprints you see) I proceeded to check out the surroundings.

Much to my surprise, perched on the ledge of the tile back splash, was Barbie, resplendent in her sparkly blue- and extremely filled out- bathing suit. Her pretty little face, replete with a tasteful touch of eye shadow and pearlescent pink lipstick was tilted in the direction of the carnage. And, moreover, on those pearly pink lips she was wearing that painted on smug grin.

The investigation is proceeding, and so far Babs isn’t saying a word, but I’ve got one of those feelings… You know, the Rowan Gant Twilight Zone knocking on the back of my skull kind.

And, you know what it’s telling me?

Barbie is a Black Widow. Maybe they should have named her, oh, I don’t know… Miranda?

More to come…

Murv