Well, I’ve got to say, last night was a real stinker. Usually I just go out to the bars with some friends for New Year’s Eve, but this year my buddy Mark convinced me to go to a party at his friend’s place. So I put on my glad rags, grabbed a bottle of bubbly, and headed out the door, ready to bring in the new year.
I should have known it wasn’t going to be a great night as soon as I saw the place. I mean, the whole front of the building was crumbling stone, there were cobwebs everywhere, it was dark. As we head into the place, I turn around to hold the door open for the guy behind me, and I see that he’s a ghoul. That’s when I realized: This party is going to be a Monster Mash.
Look, Monster Mashes are fine. I’ve been to my fair share of Monster Mashes, and they’re great to go to like, once every three years during the Halloween season, but on New Year’s Eve? You’ve got to be kidding me.
And these Mashes, they’re always exactly the same! I mean, points for consistency I guess, but Jesus. I walked in the door, and oh, big surprise, there’s Igor playing the chains, backed by his baying hounds, and everyone was digging the sounds, as if they hadn’t heard it all before. Meanwhile, I’m texting all my friends, sending out a distress call, trying to find another party. No luck.
Unfortunately, we got there right as the party began. It was going to be a long night. I looked around. Typical crowd. A group of zombies, the Wolf Man, Dracula, and Dracula’s son, which is weird by the way. It’s like, could you not afford a sitter? This is a party for adults.
Well, it wasn’t long before Dracula got drunk and started singing with the band, The Crypt-Kicker Five. (Hey Dracula, don’t quit your day job.) Eventually Mark wandered off with some mummy, and I’m standing there, watching Train perform on the television, which I can’t even hear over the sound of Dracula’s dumb voice.
Needless to say, I didn’t kiss anyone at midnight. I ended up just walking back to my place around 12:30, because I was sick of hearing about how the party was such a “graveyard smash”.
Happy New Year, Mark. You dick.