The Night Of 16 Ghosts (Of Worn-Out Clichés)
When I got home that night, I noticed the smiling jack-o-lantern in my front yard was crushed. I said to my friend, “OMG, Baby Girl! Ten minutes till the ‘Best Halloween House’ judges arrive.” To which she responded, “Nice, Dude. No worries. I’m on it.” And she goes to work on the thing.
And in about a minute, she’s pointing at it and giving me the universal “You’re fine” look, and I’m like “Wha-a-t?” And she’s like “Amazing, right?”
I mean the thing looked even worse than before, if that’s possible. I know I can be ungrateful at times, but tonight I didn’t want to be that guy, so I said, “That’s crazy! Any finishing touches?” And she replied “That’s all I got.”
And so I got a file card to put in front of it and scrawled with a marker: “We decided to crush the jack-o’lantern competition!” “Awesome,” she said.
And I’m like “I know, right?”