EYYY, Flynn here! I’m reeling after dropping my car off at the shop, coming home to my big screaming family and (currently) fending off requests to watch memey videos and talk endlessly about my cat -- the daughter my mother never had. Lemme wind down and take a deep breath here. HOOOOOOO.

Okay. I guess I should tell a Halloween story. High school? High school’s good.

For those of you who don’t know, I was homeschooled through high school. It was mostly a’ight -- fifty or so teenagers getting into various kinds of tomfoolery, largely unsupervised.One Halloween party, I decided to go balls to the wall with my costume. Fully painted face, black and white hairspray, enormous coat, the works. Also, heels. Three inch stiletto heels. Like an idiot.

Halfway through the night, some asshole got the bright idea to wander around the neighborhood and obnoxiously attempt to trick-or-treat as teenagers. Though phenomenally lukewarm on the idea, I obediently tagged along. Most of the little kids had already cleared out. The night was chilly and the moon hung appropriately eerie and silver overhead. We bummed around for a bit causing an ameautur ruckus until, many blocks away from the party’s hotspot and in true Michigan fashion, an unholy downpour began in the blink of an eye.

We were drenched in seconds. Black and white hairspray ran into my eyes. Facepaint ran into my coat. I jogged in stiletto heels through ankle-high puddles for all of two seconds before ripping them off and running barefoot through the streets like a good little hooligan. We finally tumbled back into the house shivering, sopping, and laughing hysterically (we were easily entertained). Between the hairspray now on my face and facepaint now on my clothes, my costume was way more legit grotesque than before. I looked like I had literally crawled out of the woods.

Then I got sick on candy and drank vodka under the porch for like an hour. The end.

*flynn