“Let’s have a party. A Halloween party. Costumes of course. We should make a list,” I said.

“Sounds great—let’s do it. I’m already thinking about what I will wear,” He said.

“I want to invite the whole neighborhood including people we have been neighbors with for a long time, but don’t see very often, and the new people we hardly know.”

“What a good idea. I’ll make some invitations and deliver them personally. If people aren’t at home I’ll leave it in their door.”

Party day arrived, and days had been spent decorating both house and yard with cobwebs, plastic hands emerging from the dirt, gravestones, and of course witches who cackled threats each time you walked by. Every available surface was adorned with delectable bites of every description. There were cheese and crackers, fruit kabobs, veggies and chips and dips. The punch bowl even included floating eyeballs. The deck was equipped with coolers filled with ice and drinks of every kind. We were ready!

Excitement filled the air in anticipation of the arrival of guests. What if no one shows up? I kept looking out the front window; it was time for the party to start, but it wouldn’t be much of a party without guests. I was getting nervous. Then I saw some movement on the road. Yes! It’s someone in a costume and they are headed in this direction. There’s another. Soon our street look like a zombie apocalypse, and they were coming straight for our house.

We both went out the front door to greet Beverly and Mark dressed classically as a witch and a devil. Then we recognized Susie and Dave as Cleopatra and Mark Antony. It took us a few minutes to figure out who some of the characters were, but even if we didn’t identify them right away all were welcomed and the party was started.

I was busy moving room to room and from house to yard with my best attempt at being a good hostess when I noticed a couple dressed as Homer and Marge Simpson. They were in character alright because he was sitting like a king on his throne and Marge was waiting on him hand and foot. Marge Simpson stopped to chat with Cleopatra, but they didn’t chat for long because Homer was fussing about wanting his beer and snacks. I wanted to say, “Get up off of your lazy butt and get them yourself,” but as the hostess with the mostest that would not have been appropriate.

Cleopatra’s costume was fabulous—it must be rented. Susie was really getting into being Cleo. She was acting as if she was queen of something for sure. She was telling a neighbor how they should landscape their yard. When she finished with that one she moved on to dictate interior design to another guest. This know it all attitude was not at all our Susie. Had the costume changed her, or was she play acting?

“Hi, John. Looking good, but you will have to tell me who you are supposed to be.”

“I’m Hemingway, and I have brought my own scotch. No offense, but I knew you would not be offering my brand.”

“Well you can at least have something to eat. My husband’s in the back yard doing burgers and brats on the grill.”

“I’ll eat—maybe after a second scotch—I’m cutting back you know.”

I moved into the house to see if I should refill the food trays, and ran into a couple coming down the stairs as I was coming up. He’s Midas for sure as he was gold from head to toe. His face was even painted gold—I wonder how that gold makeup will come off tomorrow. On his arm was his gorgeous date. She was voluptuous and blond, and I knew she was Marilyn Monroe even before she spoke. She did not turn to gold even though Midas had his hands all over her. The pheromones permeating the air made me uncomfortable and so I headed for the kitchen wondering which of my neighbors were behind those costumes.

I began to relax when I realized that people were really having a good time. They were eating, drinking, and socializing, and everyone seemed genuinely happy. In retrospect, I should have left well enough alone. Instead, I decided it was time to do the costume contest.

“Ok folks, I’m passing out forms for your vote on the best costume in 3 categories. The categories are: 1) Scariest 2) Funniest 3) Most Realistic. We will put our votes in this cauldron by 11:30 p.m. and announce the winner at the stoke of midnight.

Cleopatra was telling me how she recently lost 10 pounds, and it was due to sheer willpower that she did it. Just as she was asking me if I didn’t think she looked great, I noticed Midas across the room from us. He was putting an antique bone dish from the buffet table in his pocket! Really?

It made me sick to my stomach to think that whoever he was would steal from us. I decided I was not going to make an issue or even say anything about it. It just was not worth it.

By the time I got to Ernest Hemingway he was very far into his “cups.” Time to have something to eat Ernie,” I said. He waved me away and poured himself another scotch.

I needed to go to the restroom and noticed that the door was cracked open so I assumed it was empty. I pushed the door open and was shocked to find Marilyn Monroe and Mark Antony in embrace. I inhaled quickly and backed up. They saw me, laughed and continued their embrace. What is happening here?

As I charged down the hallway in my flight from adultery, I came face to face with a new character. I did not recognize him from the neighborhood. He was tall, dark, and handsome. Dressed in an immaculate tuxedo, and radiating good looks and savoir faire, he bowed slightly, took my hand in his, brought my hand up to his lips and kissed it, saying, “Salutations to my delightful hostess.”

A greeting as gracious and flattering as that would normally be a charming experience, but I have to tell you that when he touched my hand I felt a cold chill that went to my bones. I shivered and pulled my hand back. I stumbled back saying something like, “I hope you have a good time.” He quickly responded, “I’m sure I will.”

The dread I felt after that experience made me think again—what is happening here? These are not the neighbors I know.

I went outside thinking maybe the fresh air would help me clear my mind of the muddle it was in. My husband was taking the last things off of the grill so I went to help him. As I neared the grill, I was witness to yet another oddity. The devil was arguing with Adolf Hitler over politics. The devil was trying to make a logical case when Adolf lost it and began to scream and pound on the railing of the deck. I know what is best for the people! I will decide what the people want! With that Adolf gave the devil a push and he fell backward over the railing.

My husband and I both rushed around to where the devil, our neighbor Mark, lay on the ground. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. I’m not hurt. Where did that jerk go? Who is he anyway? Where does he live?”

“We’re not sure who he is, but if he hasn’t already left I’m going to ask him to leave. You’ve been assaulted. Want us to call the police?”

“No, I’m ok. I’d just like to know his real identity.”

The three of us went inside and looked all around. Then we went back outside and could not find Adolf. Good riddance. Who was he?

It was getting close to the bewitching hour and I needed to count up votes for the costume contest. I asked Marge Simpson if she would help me decide who the winners were. We emptied the cauldron and counted the votes for each category.

“Attention! Attention everybody. We are about to announce the winners of our costume contest.”

Marge Simpson, bless her heart, asked if she could announce the winners, and I gratefully agreed. Then she proceeded to turn everything upside down by her comments.

“She said, “The winner of the Vainglory award goes to Cleopatra who has been so full of herself. Of course, the Greed award goes to Midas. Both Midas and Marilyn win the lust award, with Mark Antony coming in third. Mark Antony wins for envy, and Ernest Hemingway has gluttony (for alcohol) won hands down. Wrath we are not able to award to the character who came as Adolf Hitler because he left for who knows where. That leaves sloth and I am happy to award that to my dear husband who came as and acted as Homer Simpson all night. The seven deadly sins have all been on display here tonight, and I for one have had enough. Good Evening.”

If Marge thought that settled anything she was wrong. As she and Homer walked down the street the rest of the guests were just getting fired up. Cleo pulled back and slapped Marilyn across the face. Marilyn then pulled Cleo’s wig off and when Mark Antony tried to step in Marilyn kneed him. Then I noticed the tall, dark, handsome stranger whispering in the ears of some of the guests and immediately they also became violent. Food was being thrown, tables flipped, and drinks poured on heads. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

Then I saw my husband approach the handsome stranger. He said something to the stranger and pointed at the door. The stranger smiled at him, and then slowly walked to the door, opened it, and left. At that very moment the sun was visible in the big window facing the east. The light filled the room with calm. I looked to see which way handsome stranger walked, but to my dismay he was gone—he disappeared! The rest of our guests, heads hanging, quiet, shamed, left one by one and went home.

When my eyes opened that morning I laid there for awhile thinking about what had just happened. I got up, made coffee, and sat down at the kitchen table. As I looked around me I realized that the house was in perfect order. There was nothing remaining of the mess from the night before. That’s odd.

Dave came out of the bedroom, poured himself a cup, and said, “You’ve been talking about a Halloween party, and I think it’s a good idea. Let’s do it.”