The following is taken from one of my short stories, it’s set at a Halloween party on a University campus:
A black vampire, a white vampire and Spiderman walk into a bar. It sounds like a good setup for a joke. The only joke was the amount of tequila they then made me drink. I had insisted on not drinking Sambuca because of what it did to my constitution so they had Sambuca and I had tequila, but it didn’t make the pain on my throat, and stomach any less, and it didn’t make how I felt the next morning any better. All it did was build in me the idea that I was a terrific dancer, something that almost anyone including myself could tell you is definitely not the case, I can barely walk down a set of stairs without fucking it up, let alone move like Justin Timberlake. I truly went wild that night though. With my mask on I was sure that everyone would just approve of me, and want to dance with Spiderman, that they would gather round me for group photos and then we could all dance like a robot from 1984 together. It turned out that while they found it mildly amusing, there is something very disconcerting and sinister about someone dancing too close to you wearing what would be best described as a children’s gymnastics outfit.
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