Halloween (2 be or Not 2 be)

A few years ago, on a night much like this one, except for slightly more on October 31st, there was a shindig of considerable proportions at my then residence. My friends were experts at throwing parties, and somehow managed to have a house full of strangers and familiar faces, which is pretty impressive if you ask a fuddy-duddy like me.

In any event, one of the strangers turned out to be considerably... stranger. She had been working at a Halloween costume store weeks earlier, and was invited by my roommate on a whim. She was not a particularly attractive girl, but my roommate tended to eschew the typical hunter mentality, drop the rifle, and hurl dynamite into the woods and hope the law of averages would eventually lead him to victory. Regardless, she accepted and, more surprisingly, showed up.

I first saw her as she was standing near the french doors of the third floor living room. French doors, for those who do not know, have window panes in them. That's important, write that down. She caught my eye and, knowing I was my roommate's... well, roommate, pushed me up against the wall.

"Where's Jed*?" Lips envelope the lower half of my face. "What?" I sputter, before they came back a second time, even more aggressive than the first. "Where's your roommate, Jed?" This girl... was trying to get to my roommate... by making out with me first. I'm no Napoleon, but I would have drawn up a different strategy.

"I don't know!" I say, before making out for a few more minutes because hey, free make-outs. About three minutes of that, and I start to get a little self-conscious of this, and the fact that this girl is clearly not socially equipped to navigate the waters of proper roommate seduction. "I'll go find him!" I say, and scurry off, intending to do nothing of the sort.

After scurrying aimlessly for about thirty minutes, I decide to go back to the third floor. Why not? I'm not the pick of the litter, I might as well update her on my imaginary quest for Jeb and face suck for a couple minutes. Also, scurrying is tiring.

She's standing in the same spot. In fact, she hadn't even changed angles. It's like she had erected a statue of herself to mark the occasion of tongue bathing a guy to somehow get to his friend. So I walk over, and she repeats, "Where's Jed?" I dunno, I say, and she repeats her face-suckery, as if I'd hidden him in my lower lip and was acting coy.

She pushes me up against the doors and goes all out, flailing like a howler monkey on ecstasy. The sound of lips flapping, costume fabric brushing against walls, smashing glass... oh wait, that's not expected.

Crazy Girl had, in her moment of passion/seduction/request for information, slammed her kneecap through one of the glass panes in the french door. And she. Was. Bleeding.

"I'm okay!" she said, as the skin began to peel off of her knee bone. "I'm FINE." She was, of course, not fine. Ven*, another roommate of mine, and I led her into the bathroom to size up the damage. It was ugly. And bloody. And skin... flappy. So bloody, in fact, that Ven thought it appropriate to make a joke about her having AIDS. He always was the pure essence of etiquette and tact in delicate situations. She did not, of course, have AIDS. You'd like to think that AIDS education had been prevalent enough that the word "AIDS" would not cause a panic throughout a party, but you'd like a lot of things that aren't going to happen. Everyone started worrying, going for the exits, and just generally making me mourn the state of health education in my country.

After a few minutes, we decided to call an ambulance, because Halloween parties really peter out when people actually die at them. You'd think that out of all the year's festivities, Halloween would be the best to have a corpse at. Not so, according to many lawyers and judges. The ambulance showed up, and a fire truck with it, because screw it, this isn't humiliating enough for all parties involved quite yet.

"WHERE'S JEDDDDD!" Are... you... KIDDING ME? On the stretcher, being carted into the ambulance, screaming like a banshee. "WHERE'S JED?!" Finally, Ven yells, "He'll meet you at the hospital." He was, of course, unaware of who she was or really that she was at the party in the first place. But at that point, we were just trying to numb the pain for her. I think the paramedics were probably better at it.

So, then they left, and none of us ever heard from her again. Mostly because none of us knew who she was, to be fair. Jed had no idea she'd even been there, and I managed to cause an event WORTHY OF A FIRETRUCK AND AN AMBULANCE by kissing a girl. So that... yeah. That was memorable.

And we never did fix that window pane. SPOOOOOKYYYYYY.

*names have been changed to protect the identities of the Nowhere-Close-To-Innocent

Awkward moments are my most vivid memories, so this prompt is perfect for me. I've seen a lot of Facebook pages in my day, and more than a few state that they "love awkward moments". Really? You're sure about that? You love them? We'll have to agree to disagree on that one, because regrettably, every awkward moment I've ever encountered is etched into my memory with a knife crafted from Stainless Steel Embarrassment. I'll use only my very first for this answer. There are countless more.

When I was in pre-school, I once stole a Fisher-Price peg-shaped doll from the bucket of... well, the bucket of Fisher-Price peg-shaped dolls. I still remember that the little guy's body was green, and had the head of an old man. I needed him for my home collection, as I guess all of my figures were young and in need of an older member of the community to dispense wisdom, yell at them for no reason, and vote based entirely on socially conservative issues.

There were two moments of pure awkward in this event. The first was getting caught. My mom, unbeknownst to me, had memorized the faces of all of my Fisher Price dolls, and realized I had stolen it as soon as she saw it in my hand. She outed me immediately, in front of my friend Brendan and his mom. I had never been in trouble for anything Commandment-Breaking worthy before, so it was most likely the first time I'd ever felt the sensation of pure awkward- that heat on the back of your neck you get when caught red-handed in full view of everyone. I had no defense, either. The stares of Brendan and his mom skewered me like swords, and I was without armor.

The second awkward moment was my attempt to casually return the doll to it's rightful bucket the next day at pre-school. See, my mom had told me to return the doll, but she never told me to tell the teacher what I'd done. At that age, I'd already learned about contractual loopholes, and as soon as my mom was out of sight, I pocketed the doll and awaited my chance to make right what was once made wrong. At play time, I made my way to the bucket and pulled Ol' Greeny from my pocket, dumping him back into the bucket. Unfortunately, while I'd masted loopholes, I still had some learning to do on "looking around before doing something incriminating," because when I looked up, one of the girls from class was intently watching me.

In a burst of intuitive dishonesty, I told her that the bucket was getting low on guys and I was adding to it. I don't think four-year-olds are able to articulate "Bullshit!", but I'm pretty sure that was the sentiment on her face. So I slinked away, knowing she knew. That burning on my neck gnawing at me the whole time.

So that's the story of the Great Toy Heist and my first experience with awkward situations. There are hundreds more, but this is not a site dedicated to the writing of novels, so I'll leave it at that. So what makes an awkward moment so awkward? Those stares, that burning on your neck, and for me, the knowledge that this moment in time will actually haunt your dreams for all of your life.