If Halloween Was a Scary Movie

Growing up, the spookiest part about Halloween was always the haunted houses and movies, but at college, a new set of scaries keep us up at night. Read Jerk’s Halloween horror story in preparation for your most terrifying night out:

You’ve been binging scary movies all weekend, carving pumpkins, and are officially in the Halloween ~spirit. The party doesn’t start for hours, but that’s when it hits you – you still don’t have a goddamn costume. Next thing you know you’re rummaging through your drawers and begging friends for oddities in desperation to create a complete look. No matter how hard you try, nothing seems to be coming together. Eventually some kind soul agrees to let you wear their sweaty costume from their wild, puke-stained weekend, and, in a matter of minutes, you’re ready to head out on your Halloween endeavors.

You step outside, starting to feel some excitement beneath the steady stream of fireball flowing through your veins, when you realize there’s a reason people don’t dress like sexy angels and devils everyday. It’s colder than a motherfucker in Syracuse. In fact, you only make it a few steps before you notice you can’t feel your legs. Eventually you and your friends decide that enough is enough and Uber is the only way you’ll make it anywhere without freezing your almost-bare asses off. You wait for some middle-aged man to find your group, clustered together in an effort to conserve body heat, and pile into the car, speeding through campus and carrying on some awkward conversation with your driver while trying to act more sober than you actually are.

Finally, you pull up to the party and you can already hear the music blasting. You walk in and a wave of beer and cheap perfume hits you like an 18-wheeler, blurring your senses as you climb down a set of stairs in the pitch dark, your shoes sticking on some unknown substance with each step. By some miracle, you get down without dying and start making your way through the crowd, bobbing your head to shitty remix after shitty remix. You look around and admire creative costumes that you likely won’t remember in the morning.

At this point, with the lights flashing and the music is blaring, it seems like things are going well. So, you do what anyone would, and advance yourself above the crowd by taking a step onto an elevated surface. Dancing and looking down on the sweaty bodies grinding together, you feel on top of the world. That is, until you feel a slight shove and are knocked off your heels. Although you’re dressed like a cat, you certainly don’t have the coordination of one. You take a tumble and eat shit. Someone steps on your hair, another trips over your legs, and it’s time to call it quits.

Now that you’re thoroughly bruised, drunk and exhausted, you decide it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to just call it a night. Besides, a sudden craving for Calios must be addressed. You grab your friends and beg them to come back with you instead of staying with the hot firefighters and policemen that they’ve been dancing with all night. Luckily the power of delicious calzones is enough to persuade them. You stumble outside and your friend taps you on the shoulder, she mutters indistinctly, you ignore her and try to keep her upright in your effort to get food. But luck is not on your side, and she pukes all over you. Now that’s something to kill an appetite.

At long last, everyone gets home and you collapse on your bed. Your friends are too drunk and lazy to get back to their rooms, so they’re crashing with you. Your sweaty, costumed bodies snuggle together. One beer drenched arm stuck to another… or is that your friend’s puke? Your head is spinning and the songs from the party are replaying over and over again in your mind, no matter how hard you try to stop them. You can already feel the hangover kicking in.

Before you know it, it’s morning and you wake up with glittery mermaid makeup smeared across your chest. Your alarm didn’t go off and your costume is tangled around you. Groaning, you try to remember what the fuck happened last night and wonder why your entire body aches so badly. You reach for your phone and realized you posted a years worth of Snap stories and a few unedited Instagrams that have already gained some sketchy comments. Then you realize the time – you’ve slept through your morning classes. That’s when you realize that absolute scariest part of Halloween… the fact that all this shit went down on a Tuesday night.