The Big Halloween Post, Part 3 (and final); or, The True and Goodly Picture of the Rocky Horror Picture Show

Final installment, finally! By the way, no, the sun is NOT out and am I happy about it? No. Can I do anything about it? No.

Where did I leave on the Halloween subject? I think I had everything down to Earl and Ricë’s house, her laughing until she couldn’t eat, pretending to be askeered of my ghost cowboy lips (whilst shortly after admonishing all Halloween participants if they were not something ghoulish or day of deadish, and heaven fofend if they were sexy-ish). David with his flight suit and helmet. Keith with his blond Johnny Depp pirateishness. Earl refusing to have any makeup come near his person. Before Night Falls with Javier Bardem, paused on the television, and according to reports not watched that night, possibly to due significant laughter.

Anyhow, Ricë filled David’s flight suit pockets with numerous things not usually found in flight suit pockets: chopsticks, some rubbery lip thing which was just slightly left of icky, a wooden animal and of all things a meat thermometer. Presumably this was to allow all manner of conversations to occur, with a spontaneous eruption whenever David pulled an item out of his…pocket. Get your minds out of the gutter.

We did then assemble, David Keith and I, at the Bar (that’s its name, yessir) along with a gaggle of Universitarians. This is a term I created for Universalist Unitarians, or Unitarian Universalists, precisely because I really cannot remember their exact title, and it’s long anyhow. They had been there a little before us, and many of the ladies were sort of drunkish. We laughed for a bit, and indeed David began producing items out of his pockets, much to the delight of all. And much to the delight of all, the meat thermometer was a big tit…er…hit.

Sorry, I’d never use that term but really it was a great pun. You see, it has been reported that David svengalied the women into placing the meat thermometer between their breast cleavage and declaring themselves “medium well” or “broiled beef” or “set oven,” all phrases gleaned from the thermometer itself. And David definitely could Svengali many, many people, he is that charming, so I don’t deny the possibility. But the fact is these UU women know how to party, and all David had to do was pull out the meat thermometer (yikes, it sounds so very dirty) and they were all over it (it doesn’t get any cleaner).

Having said that I was deemed “tender lamb.” It’s largely because I’m so shy and innocent. :)

So post The Bar we headed to the Yucca theatre in glorious downtown Midland to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show. First up was the costume contest. We cheered loudly for the Universitarians, and generally managed to get those we wanted to win in the winners circle. Alas many of the flock seemed to be in the bathroom when Keith went up there, and only David and I were left to cheer and though we were loud, and even joined by the (mostly) cool people below, he did not make it to the final round.

I’d also like to point out that there was a sexy female contest but no sexy male contest. Ahem. So I had to stay seated.

Then the movie started and one of the UU Ladies whose name I’m protecting proceeded to uhhh…have a lot of fun. At some point she said something which just made me laugh in the high, unstoppable laugh which David refers to as my being broken, so he uttered “M____________ broke Gabriel!” It was then that a lady in her prom dress (that’s the story so it’s true to me) looked back and said “could you be quiet, seriously.”

Now, it’s well known that I’m not always the loudest in a crowd, being so shy and all, but that when I begin to unwind I will have fun and there’s no reason to think I should stop. I was taken aback. Apparently this creature in front of me thought she had arrived, despite the props bag, at a nice sit down showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, perhaps followed by a discussion of the postmodern and gender identification implications of said film. Oh, wait, not the latter, because I don’t think she’d understand what the hell postmodern and gender identification meant.

But she somehow did get the impression that I and I assume those around me should shut up and watch Tim Curry run around in a corset and fishnets. Oh wait, she didn’t make it there. You see, despite the fact that most of her entourage was cool and even dressed up, she didn’t have a clue. I also doubt she realized she was sitting behind the party hard Universitarians, who, in a protective move that fills me with glee, started making more noise in her specific direction, and pummeled her with bubbles (even before it was time for the bubbles in the movie).

Her boyfriend, who was well and ghouly clad, took her to the front to do the Time Warp again, where she stood, arms crossed, like a petulant Shirley Temple who got dropped off the Good Ship Lollipop in the middle of Amsterdam’s Red light district. Or at least Odessa’s red light district.

After we had all time warped, what happened? The dear little miss made her entire entourage leave. It was about three tables of people. Now, you know, I have to say, trying not to be horribly sexist, those were some hen pecked men.

(Perhaps not surprisingly, M_________ had asked the guy in makeup and a pink shirt, with fake breasts under it, if he was gay, to which he said no, to which she said “well you look gay,” to which he was a little freaked out, in his buzz cut and red lipstick. Not that she henpecked him, but, she did unsettle him.)

Okay, so, when they left I have to admit some of the energy left with them. But we still had fun. Occasionally I yelled out “Tim Curry is a hot bitch” which managed to shock David. It was fun and un-Midlandy. Let’s face it, prom night girl wouldn’t have made it through much more of the film even if it had been a regular, dignified screening.

So that’s the night, mostly. I got to talk with the UU ladies who are all very nice, we weighed in on our meat thermometer readings, I got to crack David up, we briefly tortured a future Woman of the Junior League, and we even had popcorn, which, as the popcorn Nazi told us, was for eating, not throwing.

(The Popcorn Nazi himself looked like a barber shop quartet reject, or else a street organist whose monkey was even too cool for his owner, so said monkey left for a job in the animal testing sector, hey at least it was more thrilling. I bet he (the Popcorn Nazi) spends all of Summer Mummers thinking “just wait until Rocky Horror comes around, then I’ll get them, slimy popcorn oiled bastards!”)

But, thanks to his officious orders, there was no slimy popcorn oiled bastard-dom. Just the cap, the decorative icing on the frosting as I referred to it earlier, on one of, if not the best, Halloweens ever.