by Valerie Nusbaum
The year was 1993. The air was turning cooler and the leaves were changing from green to vivid shades of orange, yellow, and red. Apples were ripe for picking, and the holidays were just around the corner. We were happy to pull out our sweaters.
I remember it well. The month was October, and I was dating a strapping young man named Randy. We were excited to discover that we both loved Halloween, so we decided to throw a party. Not just a regular party. We were hosting a costumed murder mystery party for our friends and families. What could go wrong?
We spent the entire month planning the murder and making decorations. Food was easy. We’d have orange punch and Halloween-themed sandwiches (pimento cheese on pumpernickel bread, cut into the shape of bats; cream cheese on white bread, cut into ghost shapes; mini pizzas decorated with pepperoni Jack o’lantern faces; and all manner of gory, bloody treats).
I rented the recreation center in the park. It was a big building so we had a LOT to do. My friend, Roxann, helped me shred paper to fill orange plastic “pumpkin” bags and to fill the giant black spider. Randy picked up bales of straw and corn shocks from the farms around Walkersville. Mom and Mary baked cupcakes and made candy. We planned our costumes and worried over the guest list.
Party day arrived. Randy and I loaded his Bronco and my car and headed off to the park. I had already picked up the key, so we went inside the building to get it ready. We didn’t realize that we’d have to clean the entire building, including bathrooms, before we could put up our decorations. Luckily, we’d gotten there earlier than planned and we were young, energetic, and enthused. My, how things have changed in 25 years.
We set up tables and covered them with cloths and centerpieces. Electric candles and strings of lights were hung everywhere, along with spider webs and ghostly masks. We made a bunch of life-size scarecrows and monsters by stuffing newspapers into clothes and attaching masks to balloon faces. They looked pretty darned scary, if I do say so myself. We had eerie music and haunted house sounds, strobe lights, and black lights, along with furry, slimy creepy-crawly things scattered all around. We set up a graveyard on the stage for people to wander through. I can’t say this often enough: It was a big building.
I ran home to clean up and change into my costume. Aunt Shirley had loaned me her Elvira, Mistress of the Dark wig, and I was wearing ghoul makeup and a white flowing gown and cape—and fangs, of course. Randy was a headless man. We’d covered his head with a cardboard box, leaving breathing room, naturally, and covered the whole thing with a black robe. He was carrying his “head” under his arm. The head didn’t look at all happy. Randy wasn’t happy either because the box kept falling off his shoulders.
My dad was wearing a glow-in-the-dark “Scream” mask and black robe, and we’d stationed him outside the building to usher guests inside with a flashlight. Lauren was our tour guide, and she welcomed people to the party and guided them on their tour of the building. Lauren was either Peter Pan or Robin Hood. I’ve never figured out which. During the tour, Randy was stationed in one hallway in his headless costume, and Harry was in the other hallway. Harry was covered in blood and had a knife sticking out of him. Roxann was a witch, inviting people to stick their hands in her cauldron. Mind you, this was all done in the near-dark. My mother was a gypsy fortune teller, and as guests passed her table, Mom looked into her crystal ball and told their futures. Everyone had a rosy future according to Mom, mostly because the crystal ball was a snowglobe with a big rose inside it, but that’s neither here nor there. I was waiting inside the storage area, and I managed to make a few people shriek.
Mary came as The Great Pumpkin, Bill was the Lone Ranger, and Linda was a witch. Pat was a witch, too, and so was Vicki. We had a plethora of black hats that night. Anita was a football player, Johnny was a nerd, Gail was a leopard, and Emma was a cat. Cindy showed up wearing a trench coat, and we thought she was a spy until she opened her coat and we saw that she was wearing big, rubber body parts in the appropriate places. They were BIG parts in case you didn’t catch that part. I can’t remember who else was there that night. People were wearing costumes and I didn’t see all their faces. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I asked Randy and he can’t remember either. It was a long time ago.
I do remember that we opted not to bob for apples. Randy had a better idea. He hung powdered-sugar donuts on strings and had the guests put their hands behind their backs and eat the donuts while he jiggled the string. Randy thought the donuts would be less messy than apples in a tub of water. He was wrong. Cindy won the contest and the rest of the donuts as her prize. Great big carpenter ants had found their way into the box. Luckily, Cindy didn’t see that and we were able to get rid of it without her finding out.
Suddenly, there was a scream and a shout. Someone had been murdered! Honestly, it took our crew two hours to solve a simple murder because they all wanted to eat and drink. My dad (the “body”) took a nap while he lay on the floor. The guy who was supposed to play the part of the murderer hadn’t shown up and the fill-in forgot his lines. Vicki knocked the head off one of the witches. I think it was one of the fake ones. A good time was had by all, or most. I don’t know. I can’t remember.
Wishing you a happy and memorable Halloween.
