Minions and Medusa claimed center stage at the Smilin’ Moose, but there was an old hag that stole the contest show, (sevenfold as in seventh paragraph)

(And they are led by yet another lovely lady, a doe among the bucks as the hunting and holiday weekend continues, so top it off with some music as well. Take in the Drop Tailgate country band at the Wild Badger on Saturday, and read all about it in the Picks of the Week department. And check in there for even more ongoing Thanksgiving sweet!)

As a rapper might shout, “Three lovely ladies and a hag.”
And that hag has been getting services from more minions that even the tall spy guy in Despicable Me. (They took over my computer for an avenged sevenfold number of days, that being a bit more in actuality because of being in minion time — and invoke the Minion Union, sorry, bad joke — so its only now that the full moxie of the Moose could be unfolded by this writer).
So a Halloween night at the Smilin’ Moose, the king of area costume contests, came to bear! With the Ghost of Halloween Past, see further down in another post, cheering.
The winning entry, in a return engagement, was the golden through glitter Medusa who had snakes fashioned from rope that hung all the way down to her hips. This repeat performance a Medusa is actually a beauty, and has been going on for several years now, and the winner has cornered the market in winning contests, despite the fact — to carry the metaphor further — that she’s no spring chicken.
That would be the species of the young woman, obviously a gymnast not long ago, who had all frenetic the how-low-can-you-go moves and still had the athletic dexterity to turn and twist while rapidly going down and twerking. Her costume is another sports reference, looking much like just a basic volleyball player and still getting lots of applause while on the dance floor.
Less applause for the couple who, to have a full face, had half a mask on the left cheek (she) and half on the right (he). However, before the judging could begin, he took off his half mask because one side had gotten way too hot. Some non-rotating planets had the same problem in the solar system’s contest.
Getting more technical and setting the place alight, were the electronically and rapidly flashing via dozens of lights each, Mickey and Mouse Mouse. There was no part of them that wasn’t glowing, except maybe the tail.
And then there is the hag, more specifically a disabled witch with the teeth to boot. When see was able to make her way onto the waist-high judging table, with a little help from her minion friends, the applause was as loud as for most of the Friday night bands. She was carrying a baker’s dozen (poison?) apples, which were donated of course to her victims, not eaten herself, and a lot of lovelorn lads threw a buck or two her way to sample her fruit, so to speak. One got more personal with his donation, but stopped short of stuffing it in her shorts.
News from elsewhere in town:
Last seen in the costume contest scene where the more geriatric members of KISS, although showing as much face paint as that green witch, and they still felt like they had game enough to flirt with a nun. Oh, the trials of the clergy, as one local priest was recently defrocked, and his views were a little out there. He insisted that KISS stands for Knights in Satan’s Service. He prefers George Thorogood, although he’s no saint himself.
Then there was another kind of service. I wore a literal Big Head around my waist and two women, you know, gave it head, (no its not that bad, they just each took a side of my body by my pelvis. Would Elvis approve?).
The kids would when it is for Candy O-nly. But fifty-five of them did visit our Halloween House on that night, and that’s not the only thing that was streamlined. We were behind ourselves, as far as throwing cool stuff around the roof and yard, in a way where skeletons move and so do I. For this year it would only be a mass graveyard wrapped abound our large porch. Kids still loved it, but overnight our Thing, a hand that had dispensed candy, got gnawed down by a squirrel or raccoon. (Do the latter always get the bad press?) Ask our neighborhood, who didn’t get a single trick-or-treater! Maybe it was the presence of their skittish small dog, who couldn’t seem to choose whether to be Kujo or Cuddles. I encountered downtown a man who was released from jail a few days ago, and he told of a broken light fixture that appeared, before further inspection, to form skulls on both sides. Sitting atop these was a big floppy hat, or so he said it looked. Getting up and moving closer was what looked like ET. But while only a couple of steps away, it was all a mirage. OK … Lastly from that source, there was the usual lockdown that occurs daily, and the TV show in the general sitting area appeared to be showing, well, a lockdown. Followed by “Cops.”

Share the Post:

Related Posts

They’ve added a coffee bar, so you can have a foray of seating for four on stools in front of it, a wine bar and a petite table for two directly in front of the southwest window, and plenty of inexpensive drinks, but other than that The Urban Table as it is known is much like the former Urban Olive and Vine before it. The man who is the brains behind Hudco To Go has brought those $3 premium drinks and more to the restaurant that is kitty-corner to the, again, southwest when you take Locust Street and venture onto...
So many problems in our world, US and UK. How and when to bitch? Waiting for them to be named by a sizeable band, if they shed light on politics and ethical behavior in general, can make you numb. Has anyone else noticed, as we get older and grayer, the similarity in facial look between two who are on vocals, first a rapper and second a metal singer, knotted-side-hair Snoop Dogg and long and straight-to-collar Bruce Dickinson, one who spews island drinks as opposed to the other homemade beer, as Iron Maiden continues on in their latest with a gigantic gaggle of groups with requisite...
Just over two years ago, I sang solo an Iron Maiden song, Blood Brothers, slowly strummed via my cell phone to provide the instrumental, as the exact moment my dad was laid to his final rest under clay. A few weeks ago, one-man-band professional Jeff Loven, one of the best musicians I have ever heard and one with whom I have sung for 25 years, strummed the favorite Johnny Cash songs his father loved in the background for the last hour his dad had on this earth, the troubles of which Cash so frequently sang. Certainly, one of them was Hurt,...
A hodgepodge listing of everything that’s truly different but maybe baked porage follows, and we’re not talking about a connect-the-dots or puzzle-pieces contest or one on Trump’s foreign policy, haha, rather what I saw and what will be seen around town in recent times. Mostly, one of each. Think you have the world’s, or more likely local church’s, best grilled cheese sandwich, (coming from the land of, specifically, well curded and curdled milk and honey?) Fry it to the test on Saturday. No this is not an autumn chili cookoff, or char the best burger, or even a poker run...
Scroll to Top