This past weekend, a group of friends and co-workers found themselves working extreme hours on a mindnumbing project. To combat this spirit crushing malaise, they departed work sometime in the night time hours for a short hour of drinking, carousing and general shennanigans.

They ended up at Walgreens sometime in the wee hours, for to purchase a splint for Tom's broken finger (He likes to punch things, specifically other people's fists).

Splints were found to be too expensive...



But Halloween Masks were not.

Indeed the Halloween isle proved a remarkable source of cheap and hysterical laughter, the greatest and loudest of which due to a series of .99$ foam rubber masks in the form of a witch, a pirate, a skull, and a frankenstien.

With a sense of humor born of lack of sleep and alcohol, they paraded up and down the aisles with herky jerky steps, wearing these masks. Toom was the Witch,



Gabe the Pirate, Cam the Skull,



and Orion the Frankenstien.



Accesories were added; Toom found a rubber cap with spikes:



Cam purchased a pair of rubber Vampire Teeth, whose awkward molded fixtures would cut the inside of his mouth worse than Captain Crunch Cereal



(The in-store mischief ended when Cam raised a pointed finger, and hoping to exploit Toom's fear of things touching his eye, poked into the Witchy eyehole. Toom did not flinch, as Cam expected, his vision so limited by the mask... and the finger squished against the scelera... Toom ripped the mask back and stared for a moment if disgust and horror, holding one hand over his eye. The others laughed hysterically, but it soon died down, when it seemed Toom was on the verge passing out... Cam apologized hastily.)

When they were sure they procured the right sets of silly headgear, they proceded to checkout. The cashier seen nonplussed by thier antics; surely there are wierder sights at 1 in the morning.

Just behind them, a young man jabbered at them about the masks and halloween and a dozen other mumbled topics. His nose was caked in white powder, surely rarified coca leaves. He looked as if he fallen face first into a mass of flour, a victim of some horrible baking accident.

And then it was back out on the town! They traipsed across the rowdy dark of the marina, bemasked and shambling. The masks afforded little peripheral vision, so they had to carefully hold thier heads for maximum visibility.

Passerbys stared or hooted back, depending on thier relative level of inebriation. A few cars honked.

The masks were clearly not meant to be worn for more than a few seconds; sweat built up on the inside, wet boozy breath trapped against it.

But none of them would allow the others to demask. In for a penny, in for a pound.

When finally, the siren call of work led them back to thier office, they stalked quietly into the office, heading for the cubicles of thier co-workers. A mighty scare was planned, and on tippy toes, they snuck in...



...to an empty room. It seems, in their revelery, they had missed the call to go home.

They proceded back out the cool dark air, to the confused suprise of the local security guards.

The masks stayed on a few moments longer. They even attempted to finsih thier work in thier disguises, but the dripping condensation, and hot recycled breath proved too much.

After this group photo was taken, they returned to human form and finished work close to the rise of the sun.



Such is the insanity born of a such an insane schedule.

These fruitful bouts of madness led to a few more flurrys of tomfoolery, which will be documented later.