I used to love to go to haunted houses. I had a boyfriend who also loved to get the crap scared out of him and one season we went to at least a dozen within a two month span.
I would hide behind him, pressing my face into the back of his jacket, screaming in terror and giggling at the same time. The ghosts and ghouls had a great time with me, because I was good for business. My petrified voice carried across the parking lot, proving that these paid actors and actresses were doing a damn fine job.
One night, it was absolutely freezing outside. The line for this particular house of horrors was long and by the time we got inside, my legs were numb from the bitter wind. I always wore jeans back then and they didn’t have enough insulation to keep me very warm.
But, I was young and full of adrenaline. Frozen leg-pops were not going to keep me from the oogie boogie man, no sir.
So, we continued onward, driven by the need to shit our pants.
It was a really freaky haunted house. There was a tunnel. We had to get on our hands and knees in order to crawl through. No problem, I was a spry 20-year-old. My only concern was that the boyfriend might accidentally fart on me. I had someone behind me as well, so I made sure to keep my sphincter muscles tight.
We made it through the tunnel in record time. There were a plethora of bloody maniacs and devils around every corner. I shrieked, I yelped, I hung on to my boyfriends waist for dear life. I was so gleefully scared that I forgot to notice that it was still as fucking cold as a witches tit in the haunted house and my legs hadn’t thawed out one iota.
We finally made it to the end. There was one of those strobe lights made to disorient you.
And then I saw it. A gorilla in a cage.
He made a lunge for me. For some reason that I can’t explain, I didn’t react. Perhaps the extreme cold had finally entered my brain and turned it as numb as the rest of my body.
Then, I made a huge mistake. I laughed at him.
We finally exited the haunted house. All seemed well. I was thinking about finding me some hot cocoa, when all of a sudden I heard someone call out from behind me.
“Watch out, he’s right behind you!!”
The man is the gorilla suit had actually followed me out just to prove a point.
My frigid legs finally gave out on me and I fell right down on my unsubstantial ass.
I could see his eyes through the mask. They were narrowed and full of triumph.
The people around us were laughing, but my boyfriend was pissed off. The gorilla turned around and sauntered back to his cage, while my boyfriend helped me up from off the cold hard cement. He was ready to sue the place, but I calmed him down.
That was one of the last times that I went to a haunted house, actually.
And one of the reasons why I’m not a fan of monkeys.