Friday night, Marcus and Lynette took us college and career class members to the scream at the beach, a series of four “haunted” (see: possessed by minimum-wage earning teenagers) in Jantzen Beach. Four ten dollars, you could scream all you want at the impish miscreants running around whose sole purpose is to elicit a reaction from you.
But where’s the fun in that?
No sir, I would not have had any fun screaming like a thirteen year old girl at an Aaron Carter concert, so instead, I made it my sole purpose in life to annoy the living daylights out of the poor fools trying to scare me. And, for the most part, I succeeded (Now, the only problem was, I annoyed my own group so much they made me walk home… Just kidding. =)
We started in the Pirate haunted house, where the demon buccaneers were waiting to steal our souls, or some such nonsense. I started out by getting yelled at for turning on a flashlight (It was dark, I couldn’t see, how was I supposed to know that was the point?). We wound up in Davy Jones waiting room, where I thanked God for not being claustrophobic because there was a wall that closed in on us. It stopped a safe distance away, then moved back to reveal a wall. With mock surprise, I cried out “Look guys, it’s a hall!”
The hall disappeared.
“…and it’s gone.”
The hall reappeared.
“…and it’s back.”
The hall disappeared again.
“Oh, COME ON! It’s either OPEN or CLOSED, MAKE UP YOUR MIND!” (And yes, I’m probably the only person you know who would get into a shouting match with a wall).
A little ways down the line, I had a midget approach me and say, “You look tasty.” I eyeballed him, then said “Thanks, you look like you could use a little Tabasco sauce yourself.”
Then there was “the wall”. I think he must’ve been practicing to be a soccer goalie, and he might be really good at it, too, but soccer balls aren’t threatening (or a foot taller than he is), so after trying to step around him for the third time, I said, “Look, I get it, I can’t get around you, but if you don’t move, I’m going to put you through a wall.” Strangely enough, he listened and moved. I also managed to sing a few rounds of rousing pirate anthems, like “Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum” and “a pirates life for me”. I considered running around claiming to be Guybrush Threepwood, a mighty pirate, but odds are I would’ve been the only person who knew what I was talking about.
Then it was on to the voodoo lady. When I wasn’t singing Christmas carols, I was telling the zombies to get a breath mint or asking, “Hey, didn’t I kill you in resident evil 4?” And one of the ladies took to doing whatever they did to her right back at them, which was amusing to see a zombie jump out and go “RAAAAAAAAAARRGH!” and have her just go “RAAAAAAAAAARGH!” back. If you’re ever trapped in some kind of zombie apocalypse, I think that’s just the right kind of crazy that’ll get you out alive. Or eaten alive. I always get the two mixed up…
Next was the Carn-Evil. It was like a Carnival, only evil.
…
Hey! It’s like a play on words! Carn. Evil. Kind of like carnival, only evil. I just got it!
…
Okay, not really, I’m not THAT slow (I figured that one out an hour ago…=D). During that, I sang selections from “The Sound of Music”. Oddly enough, while singing “How do you solve a problem like Maria”, I got to the line about finding a word that means Maria right around the time a psycho-clown popped out (How do you find a word that means Maria?
A flibbertijibbet! A will-o’-the wisp! A clown!).
Anyway, our final destination was the something-or-another spooky sounding Assylum for the Criminally Insane. At the door, I asked the lady letting us in, “Is the Joker in here, or did Batman have to go catch him again?”. During this one, I decided to opt for selections from the Wizard of Oz (C’mon, crazy movie with Munchkins, crazy house, it all ties together, right?). So halfway through some little demented peon asks “Why are you singing?”
“Cuz, it’s FUN!” I said enthusiastically.
“Well, you’re in my house now, and I don’t allow singing, so stop it.”
“Well, seeing as you can’t touch me, I’d like to see you stop me!” I then resumed into the chorus of “Somewere Over the Rainbow”, although Judy Garland I am not.
About halfway through, a group of us started singing “Follow the Yellowbrick Road”, at which point a scary looking woman said, “I don’t think you’re in Kansas anymore!” That led into my Wicked Witch of the West impression, which I admit that I scare me when I do it…
Soo, in conclusion…
Andrew: 132 (give or take), Underpaid High Schoolers: 0 (the psychopath jumping on the bed ALMOST got me, but since I didn’t knock his lights out, it doesn’t count).
Tags: Humor, Personal by Andrew Laine
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