The Invitation

I snatched the grinning skull out of my mailbox. Even before reading the scroll wedged tightly in the plastic mandible, I knew it was an invitation to LA’s pre-eminent Halloween party. It had red wax tears dripping out of the eye sockets and a jaunty gold ring clipped to the nasal cavity. With shaking hands, I pulled out the scroll and read:

Have a blast at our

Monster Mash

October 31, Ten o’clock

The Orlock House

Come dressed as your favorite monster

(You, too, Jeremy!)

Prizes for best costumes

    I suspected that my invitation had been wrangled by the uber-talented Druscilla Wang, who’d been a classmate of mine at the Cinema Makeup School. She’d been recruited by the Orlocks soon after graduation and had subsequently disappeared into Hollywood's rarefied world of professional Special Effects.

    To her credit, Druscilla didn’t forget her friends; the skull I held in my hands was proof of that. I knew this invitation was an incredible opportunity for me to showcase my skill and network with movie-making royalty.

    The hosts, Vanessa and Desmond Orlock, were famous SFX makeup artists at the pinnacle of their careers – there wasn’t a make-up award in existence they hadn’t won multiple times. Ever since they’d purchased their hilltop estate (an iconic horror house featured in several noted slash films), the Orlock’s annual Halloween party had been the stuff of legend.

    I got down to the serious business of designing my costume. I wanted to be ambitious and unique, but not so unique that my monster was unrecognizable. I considered Audrey, the human-eating monster plant from the “Little Shop of Horrors,” and the Pale Man from “Pan’s Labyrinth,” whose taste for children had once given me nightmares. I also considered the horrific Pennywise character from “It,” but decided that since he was basically an evil clown (costume-wise), he wasn’t challenging enough.

    Finally figuring that I didn’t have to show Hollywood how to Hollywood, I decided to be Medusa, the creature from Greek mythology who has venomous snakes for hair and turns mortals into stone with a single glance.

    I was proud of the wig I created, using the skills I’d picked up from an animatronics gig. It had actual moving snakes that wove about my head hypnotically, forking the air with their realistic pink tongues. I made an authentic toga, too, and practiced the makeup for days so I would get it just right.

    Fully costumed, I stared into the mirror with eyes that were the empty orbs of an ancient marble statue. I practiced “alarming” the animated snakes on my head, stretching out their bodies in fright, fangs bared, until they scared even me. I smoothed the folds in my perfectly draped toga and smiled in satisfaction.

    My self-congratulatory bubble popped once I arrived at the party and saw the most amazing array of monster costumes, each one better than the last. The overall vibe was like something out of a boy wizard movie, with terrifying dark witches, evil warlocks and grinning goblins, along with an impressive assortment of alien monsters and wonderfully executed devils, mummies and ghouls.

    Druscilla herself was an elegant vampire with expertly applied make-up. She was not so spectacular that she outshone any of the other guests; I guess her tactfulness was one of the things that made her a great assistant. I made my way towards her.

    “Hey girl,” beamed Druscilla.

    “Hey,” I said. “Thanks for the invite, Dru. This party is awesome!”

    Druscilla waved her hand dismissively. “You look amazeballs,” she said. I made my snakes stand at full attention and Druscilla burst out laughing, her perfect fangs on full display. “Fantastic!” she cried. “Let’s show the Orlocks.”

    She dragged me over to the power couple who were drinking red martinis, dressed fabulously as the infamous Liz and Hellboy.

    “Guys,” said Druscilla, “This is my friend, Jeanie Tate – the one I told you about. She’s also a CMS graduate.”

    “Oh, Medusa!” said Vanessa Orlock, scanning me head to toe. “Love your hair.”

    I frightened my snakes, and Desmond Orlock spit out his martini. “That,” he sputtered, “is inspired.”

    Druscilla tucked my hand into the crook of her arm and told her employers she would introduce me around. We wandered the party, drinking flutes of some kind of amber liquid and nibbling on mushroom canapes. Not a huge mushroom fan, I was surprised by how delicious they were. Druscilla gave me a wink and said, “Must be the cheese.”

    “What’s it like, working for the Orlocks?” I asked, brushing crumbs from my marbleized lips.

    Druscilla gave me an odd look. “I’m surrounded by monsters all the time,” she replied.

    “I guess so,” I laughed, but Druscilla was already introducing me to Freddy Kreuger.

    As we chatted with the other guests, I noticed again the unbelievable authenticity of all the costumes. It was hard to put my finger on exactly how everyone’s character seemed so real – but it was like living a horror fantasy. You could even believe that members of the jazz band, dressed as zombies, were performing with parts of their faces falling off.

    “Heeeeeere’s Johnny!” cackled Druscilla as we approached Jack Torrance, Jack Nicholson’s infamous character in ‘The Shining.’ “Sup, John?”

    “Sup,” said John. “Hey, Medusa, cool braids. Dru, who is the Jeremy guy mentioned on the invitation?”

    I’d been wondering about that, too.

    Druscilla drained her flute and looked around conspiratorially. “Bit of an inside joke,” she confided. “He’s the only real monster at the party. The Orlocks thought it would be funny to tell him to come in costume.”

    “Oh,” said John, looking as puzzled as I felt. “Which one is he?”

    Druscilla giggled and pointed to one of the waiters serving drinks. He looked of average height and build; a nondescript young man in every way.

    “Wait, what does he normally look like?” asked John.

    “You’ll see at midnight,” said Druscilla. “He can hold that shape for just so long. Eat as many canapes as you can!”

    And with that strange advice, she pulled me to the next guest and the next. I kept an eye on Jeremy as he threaded his way through the guests with trays of drinks, wondering what – if anything - was going to happen at midnight. At eleven thirty, I noticed Jeremy looking sweaty and tugging at his waiter’s bow tie. By eleven forty-five, his shirt was soaked through, and he had a desperate expression. He was also about six inches taller.

    I poked Druscilla in the ribs. “You weren’t kidding about Jeremy. He doesn’t look right.”

    Druscilla glanced at her phone; eleven fifty-five. “How many mushroom canapes have you eaten?”

    “Maybe six or seven,” I replied.

    She nodded. “You’ll probably be fine.”

    “Probably?” I grabbed another canape from a passing tray. “What on earth are you talking about, Dru?”

    “You’ll see.”

    Cue the monster. Jeremy began to wail like a Banshee and tear at his clothes. Everyone stopped talking and gasped as he sprouted coarse black hair and taut, enormous muscles all over his body. Sharp claws sprang from his fingers and toes. The lower part of his face elongated into a dark muzzle and long canine teeth protruded from his gums. A long, wolfish tail erupted violently from his tailbone. Jeremy threw back his head and howled.

    My own, detached reaction to this scene puzzled me. I should have been terrified. My goosebumps should have had goosebumps. Some of the other guests were running for their lives, looking wildly for the exits. Those were the ones Jeremy went after.

    “Motion excites him,” said Druscilla, draining her flute.

    I didn’t run. I simply watched in tepid dismay as Jeremy pounced on one of the fleeing guests and took a big bite out of his neck. Arterial blood spurted onto the floor as Jeremy devoured human flesh.

    There was an audible sigh from the crowd, and then, slowly, the party guests began to clap.

    “Well done, Orlocks!” shouted Freddy Krueger.

    “Incredible!” cheered the zombie band.

    “Careful of those waiters!” giggled a swamp witch.

    I stared, marble-eyed, at Druscilla. “Was that fake?”

    “Yes, if you’ve had a few canapes,” drawled Druscilla. “Jeremy hates the taste and won’t touch you if he smells mushrooms. If you don’t smell like mushrooms, well, then...” She gestured towards Jeremy, who was catastrophically separating another guest’s arm from her shoulder.

    “Are you kidding me?” The bloody scene unfolding looked very, very real.

    “That’s the whole point of what we do, isn’t it?” shrugged Druscilla. “We mimic the living in the ghastliest way. We bring horror to life.”

    She handed me another drink, which I downed in one gulp. I began to remember where I was, whose famous mansion I stood in, and marveled at the Orlocks’ genius. My breath became completely normal, even as I observed another guest get messily dismembered.

    Druscilla noticed the change and smiled. “The Orlocks have had me scouting for another assistant.” She beamed over her flute. “You’re really talented, Jeanie, and I think you’d make a great addition to the team!”

    I noted how Jeremy, having dispatched his second victim, was now hungrily scanning the room for his third. “Thanks, Dru! I didn’t realize this was a job interview.”

    Druscilla nodded. “I think we’d both have our pick of jobs after putting in some time here. We could even start our own business. Wang and Tate!”

    My brain caressed the melodious sound of Wang and Tate, even as the party madness continued. The zombie band played “Monster Mash” while Jeremy loped the room’s perimeter, pursuing the runners and screamers. The guests who had eaten their fair share of mushroom canapes either cheered on the gore or ignored the chaos and chatted amiably.

    “I’ll absolutely consider it,” I said, imagining Orlock SFX on my resume. I tried to think of a reasonable question. “What’s it like, working with monsters?”

    More screams by the front door meant that a panicked guest had almost –- but not quite -– escaped Jeremy’s bloody maw. There was a fearful, squishy crunch.

   “Not too bad.” Druscilla licked her lips. “It takes some getting used to, but eventually they are pure inspiration. And the pay ... " She raised her vampire eyebrows. “... is extremely good.”