Internal monologues of Halloween costume models
I can’t tell, is this demeaning or not? On the one hand, this is actually a tasteful outfit. I’m covered up, I’m warm, and nobody can tell that I’m four months pregnant. On the other hand, I am basically embodying a human-sized vagina. Then again, this whole conceit is rather clever, since plugs are referred to as male and female. Once I get home and smoke some PCP, I won’t have to worry about this anymore.
I can’t believe Ernest Borgnine is my father and this is the best work I could get in the entertainment industry.
Hey, this costume is pretty fun! I have a cute bow in my hair! I have nothing to not-smile about! Oh, wait, nevermind.
HIM AND HER:
If we had known we would have been modeling the Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum costumes, we would have gone for the pancakes at breakfast this morning the way we really wanted to. Way to waste our hotness, costume company.
HIM: When are the people in charge going to put me in my costume? And my big stupid full-sized brother, does he get a costume as well?
HIM: It’s not the fact that my parents thought it would be funny to dress me as one of the world’s worst dictators that’s giving me emotional trauma: it’s that my tiny brain is working so hard to think of a way to get back at them when I’m old enough that’s giving me blinding headaches. Either way, this “ironic” costume will turn out to be not-so-ironic one day, believe you me. Yum this juice is good.
HIM: I’m going to pee in your shoe! You may trust me because I look cute, but you shouldn’t, because I’m just a stupid cat! Meow meow meow!