Well this should be interesting, I thought to myself as I found my classiest “definitely a rich-guy” suit in my wardrobe for the costume party. I was thinking about finally wearing my my formal marine uniform that I let collect dust since I got out of Nam. I haven’t been to one of my comrades funerals or weddings I didn’t want to remember that I had it but it was there in my closet, just looking at me. Reminding me of all the lives ruined, I took it out and hid it under a pile of my old clothes. I was supposed to be the husband of a rich housewife but I had no idea who this housewife was going to be. At first I was like, been there, done that; I wasn’t ready to get back to the married life, even if it was make believe. Then I thought about it and sure I need to be getting out more, anyways. The outfit I picked out was a smooth velvet jacket with a silky brown handkerchief in the front pocket, a light yellow fedora, and a fly pair of blue suede shoes. I also brought with me my Grandpa Joe’s lucky World War I pipe, for aesthetic reasons. Dressing up and getting out of that custodian uniform made me feel some way that I haven’t felt in a long long time. I felt passion, excitement for what was to come and I desire to go out and show them what I got. These feelings dwindle with age, heartbreak and loss but for some reason they came back tonight.
Ever since I was a youngster, me and my crew always made it a point to show up to house parties fashionably late and I wasn’t about to break tradition this time. The invitation said to show up at 9:00 so I finally left my apartment at about 9:45 on the dot. It was a pretty impressive house, it had a fence with a gatekeeper and a button you have to press for them to let you in. Something was wrong though, the lights were off. What kind of party is it if the lights are off? I decided it was lame and I was wasting my time so I left. That was the end of that.
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