After much begging, I finally agreed to take Robby to the "big boy"
Halloween store. I was hesitant to take him because although he has
apparently forgotten about the week of nightmares that manifested after
walking into the store last year, I remember his terror filled nights
very well. Before going into the store we had a long discussion about
how everything was fake. The zombies were moving because they were
robots and the snakes were not real. Only after I was confident that he
understood the prop value of everything he was going to see did I agree
to walk inside with him.
Clutching my fingers so tightly that
they became numb, Robby tentatively took his first steps into the store.
He looked at every gore-inspired display and apprehensively declared,
"I know that this is just a fake robot, right Momom?" After looking
through several aisles, Robby finally gathered up the courage to release
my hand. (Just in the nick of time because the circulation was being
cut from my fingers by his tight grasp.)
We began walking
towards the more mellow section of the store, looking at the various
kids' costumes. Robby has already decided upon his costume for the year,
but we were searching for accessories to make it "totally epic and
awesome." Robby grabbed a make-up kit and moved towards me when he
unknowingly stepped on a floor switch. A spider leaped towards us from
out of nowhere. I'm not ashamed to admit that I shrieked louder than he!
Our
spider theatrics caused a lot of fellow shoppers to look in our
direction. At that moment I didn't really care who was looking at me.
That fake spider scared the bejeebers out of me! Robby and I both looked
at each other and agreed it was time to go back to Nana's house.
Trying
to regain my composure, we paid for the make-up and walked towards the
door. A young man (anybody under 35 is now classified as young)
approached me and began to chat. He heard me scream and wanted to make
sure that we were okay. I thought that was nice, considering that I had
just made a fool out of myself.
Without much introduction, he
offered me a job. If I accepted, I would be paid $200 under the table,
so I don't lose any benefits (wink wink) with the promise of having fun.
All I would have to do is "ditch the leg, bloody up the stump with some
make-up and hop around screaming while trying to get away from a man
wielding a chain saw." I've received a lot of offers since becoming an
amputee, but acting in a haunted house certainly ranks among the
strangest.
I'm not offended by the job offer. After all, I'm sure
that my screaming at the top of my lungs in the middle of a store
qualified as some sort of audition. However, I did have to turn the
position down. I simply don't hop gracefully, and with my luck I'd land
on a prop weapon which would inflict a very real injury!
No comments:
Post a Comment