Kathleen McCall:
Occasional�� Muse�

2004-10-03 - 7:12 a.m.

One For The Resume

Today I had an interesting job assignment. I was a ghoul.

I wasn't the real ghoul. I was only a floater ghoul, standing in for the real ghoul while it had lunch. Ghouls need lunch breaks. And breaks for other things too, believe it or not.

So for an hour I got to be the ghoul in the haunted house. See what you career types are missing? Sure, you have benefits, but have you ever gotten to be a beer babe? A dog nanny? A floater ghoul? I have.

Ghoul was a lot of fun. This is a gentle haunted house, for all ages, so there's no jumping or shrieking and scaring the hell out of people. It's a subtle ghoul number. I just stood very very still while the people came in and looked at everything in the room but me; then I slowly turned my head to track them as they walked. Scared the hell out of them anyway.

I had a ghoul mask and a drapey sort of a cape with a hood that went over the top of the mask, and some wonderful cobwebby sorts of things to drape all round my neck and down my front. The costume went down far enough to cover my telltale Keds, too. I kept my hands tucked into the sleeves and stood in the scenery with the other, less animated figures, and the cauldrons and potions and whatnot. And I moved a little. Sometimes.

I didn't move at first when the real little ones, the stroller-size kids, were in the room. I thought they'd be too scared. Then I started giving them tiny experimental waves. They always waved back, solemnly, just adding waving ghouls to their stockpile of experiences. No baggage, no fear.

The most fun kids were the middle-sized ones.

It's real! I saw it move!
It did not.
It did too! I saw it!
I didn't see it.
I think it's breathing!
No.
I'm going to poke it.
Don't POKE it!

Or the two little guys who came back and went right to the heart of the matter:

"Hey, are you real?"

I shook my head, slowly and sorrowfully, back and forth.

"See? I told you it wasn't real."

The adults were amusing in their own way. Adults: no matter how deep you are into the solitary recesses of a deserted haunted house, you are never really alone. Do not adjust your crotch.

I enjoyed being a ghoul.

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