I used to love to go to haunted houses. I had a boyfriend who also enjoyed getting the shit scared out of him, so 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 while giggling at the same time. The ghosts and ghouls had a great time with me, because I was good for business. My petrified screeching carried far and wide, 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 that we got inside, my legs were numb from the bitter wind. (October in Cleveland is a crapshoot.) 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 seeing the Oogie Boogie man, no sir.
It was a really freaky haunted house and 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 my boyfriend might accidentally fart on me.
I had someone behind me as well, so I made sure to keep my sphincter muscles tight.
Once out of the tunnel, there were a plethora of bloody maniacs and devils around every corner. I shrieked, I yelped, I hung onto my boyfriend’s coat for dear life. I was so gleefully scared, in fact, that I forgot to notice how fucking cold I still was. My legs hadn’t thawed out one iota.
This is an important detail, so remember it. Mer’s legs were still numb from the cold.
When we finally made it to the end, the last room had one of those strobe lights going. I was instantly disoriented as my peripheral vision caught sight of a gorilla in a cage.
He made a lunge for me but I didn’t react. Perhaps the extreme cold had finally entered my brain and turned it as numb as the rest of my body.
So, instead of screaming like I usually did, I laughed at him (human in a gorilla suit.)
This would prove to be a mistake.
When we exited the haunted house, all seemed well. I was thinking about finding me some hot cocoa and a place to sit down when all of a sudden I heard someone call out from behind me.
“Watch out, he’s right behind you!!”
I started running from him when my legs finally gave out on me. I fell hard, smack dab on my ass.
When I looked up, I could see his eyes through the mask. They were full of triumph.
The people around us were laughing, because free entertainment, but my boyfriend was really pissed off.
After making sure that I was basically unharmed, the gorilla dude turned around and went back to his cage, while my boyfriend helped me up from the hard concrete. He was ready to sue the place, but I calmed him down.
I think whoever was in that gorilla costume took his job way too seriously. But, it didn’t stop me from going to more haunted houses.
However, it sure made me not like monkeys all that fucking much.