A quick Halloween story

Well, I have my costume on and no one’s downstairs yet (we moved the party to the lobby since it’s 49 outside). So, here’s a quick Halloween story to keep myself (and possibly you) entertained while I wait for it to be party time.

Last year was the first year I dressed up as the Beer Goddess/Saucer chick. I bought the outfit in mid-October, and once I had it I decided to try it on one night after work, to make sure everything fit well in advance of the big weekend.

So I put the tank top on… a bit small, but workable. I put the miniskirt on. I put the thigh-high stockings on. Then came the shoes, which are 5-inch shiny black platform shoes which I’ve actually had since my club days in the 1990s. They’re kind of a pain to get on. So after a couple of minutes I managed to get the left one on and…

Then the phone rang. It was actually the buzzer downstairs. Someone wanted in.

“Pauly-Wauly!” said a voice I immediately recognized as my friend Bruce, a retired boxer. “Lemme come up and grab a drink from your bar.” Now, normally I’d be delighted to see Bruce and offer him a drink. But I didn’t particularly feel like explaining to a manly ex-boxer why I was in my apartment, alone, wearing a miniskirt, stockings, and one platform shoe. And if I let him in, his elevator ride up wouldn’t give me enough time to change back into street clothes.

“Uh, Bruce, this really isn’t a good time, can you come back later?” I told him.

“Come on, Paul, I just need one drink, man!” he yelled into the call box.

“Bruce, not now, I’m in the middle of something.” The call box hit its 30-second time limit and hung up on Bruce. I breathed a sigh of relief and starting wrestling with the other shoe.

About three minutes later… right as I got the other shoe on… I heard a knock on my door. “Pauly-Wauly, let me in!” Someone had recognized Bruce and let him in the building.

“Bruce, I told you it’s not a good time!” I said. “I’m busy. I can’t let you in.” I walked toward the door and my platform heels made a clacking noise against the kitchen floor.

“I hear high heels, you got a girl in there? Come on, let me in, I won’t stay, I just want to get one shot of vodka from ya, brother.”


To this day he probably doesn’t understand why I was so rude to him that night.

All right, I’m going to head back downstairs and see if they’ve tapped the kegs yet.