We went to a super cool haunted house this weekend, and I spent most of it marching behind K, fists full of his sweatshirt, trying not to die. When it was over, we drank cider and ate donuts and stood in the middle of all the haunted commotion, waiting for the dimented clown sideshow to start.
Halloween songs played in the background, and as soon as I heard 'Thriller' I started making exaggerated dance moves and Michael Jackson-ing like it was my job. My friends laughed as I made a complete ass of myself in the middle of the crowd. I was JUST perfecting my zombie arms when I saw K looking intently over my shoulder. Suddenly, the music got super loud and I turned around to witness that a thriller flash mob had begun.
I totally pioneered that shit, people.
The dancers perfected the moves I was mocking, and I squealed and jumped out of the way for the real performers.
Today's lesson: sometimes, people, crazy zombie arms can be the key to summoning howie mandel.
