Post-Halloween trauma

Us Aussies (even those that are half-Aussies), we don't do Halloween like them Yanks. We don't go around parading on the streets in silly costumes and craving pumpkins. We're a civilised lot and yes, sometimes we'll dress up for the helluva it, but we don't go batshit crazy like you Singaporeans in Zouk or other similar clubs.

Anyway, upon receiving an unofficial invite from a friend of a friend, I thought, what the heck. A few costume options bounced around in my head: Goth? Nurse? Japanese High School Student? How about all three? Gothic Japanese Medical Student! Tada!

Armed with emo-makeup, plastic syringes and knee-length socks, I was ready to rock the house. There were anime people, vampire people, etc. All acting very un-Singaporean-like with a Singaporean accent. But this isn't my story.

What was scary was coming home from the party. Despite my countless complains about me wanting to move out, I still live with my parents whom I like to believe that don't know what I do outside the house. And coming home, half drunk and in a creepy costume could be quite a task. It was like playing Metal Gear Solid with Ikea furniture.

I got to my room safely that night.

Few days later, I forgot to do my own laundry. Oops. ("!") I tell you, when my mom picked up that pile of bloodied fetish-looking costume, I could see the 3 words, "Kinky Bondage Sex", flashed on her forehead. One word, however, flashed on my head, "Shit".