Dress Up Party

Saturday night: My 28th birthday. Nothing out of the ordinary or obvious. There was drinking, self-sabotage, and cake. Afterwards, I lead a small group of friends, plus Dale (a workmate, who wasn’t invited) into a dingy establishment, highlighted by neon lights. Once inside, my friends drank cheap wine, while we pretended to enjoy bad music. Then the Monster Mash came on. Everybody went crazy and headed for the dance floor.

I approached a girl dressed as a zombie and asked her to dance. Her pale face reminded me of one of the puppets from The Corpse Bride. She wore a stained dress and purple lips (which trembled). She didn’t seem interested in my sudden attention, nor responsive for that matter. I offered her a drink, but she dry reached at the offer. Then her eyes rolled back into her skull and she let out a painful zombie sounding moan. For a dress up party, she seemed to take her character way too seriously.

I figured she wasn’t much of a talker, or simply unwilling to break character. It didn’t bother me, I was happy to carry the conversation. When I mentioned that it was my birthday; she seemed unimpressed, then crawled into a ball. ‘That’s exactly the way I feel about it’ I nodded. ‘I’m glad someone else gets where I’m coming from. You sure I can’t get you a drink?’ The girl keeled over, covering her face. After a couple of minutes of awkward silence I tried again to get the conversation going. ‘My friends want to go into Kings Cross after this, but I think I’m done, unless you want to go?’ I asked, enthusiastically. ‘Arrgwwwhh!’ She grumbled, sounding very zombie – circa Sean of the Dead. ‘Yeah me either,’ I replied ‘did you come here with anyone?’ I Paused, looking around the room. ‘I mean, was there a dress up party here before? You seem to be the only one in costume.’ She shook her head, batting her eye lids heavily.

At that moment, I couldn’t help but admire the amount of detail the girl had gone to: she looked as though she’d been dead for days. Even so, she was striking. Beneath the bloody makeup, and hair stuck to her cheeks, hid a stunningly pretty face, however pale it was. The Monster Mash made for the perfect soundtrack. But at just 3 minutes and 14 seconds, it didn’t last long. The music took a turn for the worst and suddenly changed gears. Another DJ + 1 had climbed behind the booth. Heavy electro beats entered the room, gate-crashing everybody off the dance floor.

A group of girls approached me and my zombie crush. They weren’t wearing zombie costumes themselves, or any monster like costume for that matter (unless the theme was loose. In which case, they had chosen to go with – cheap call girl costumes). Even so, they too captured the spirit of their characters: spilling drinks, exposing too much breast, rummaging through their purses, and slurring profanity into each others faces. They must be all drama school students, I imagined; so rehearsed and well cast. Without a costume, I felt completely out of place.

‘Oh Ruby are you OK babe?’ One asked, stroking my zombie’s sticky hair. ‘Ruby? That’s your name?’ I asked, without a reply. I’ve always been drawn to girls named after stones, or jewels. Previously I had dated a shallow Crystal, an unfaithful Gemstone, and the walking nightmare that was Pearl. ‘Is this guy bothering you hon?’ Asked one of the other scantly clad girls. ‘Why don’t you fuck off! Can’t you see she’s fucking smashed.’ Spat another girl, who vaguely resembled Julia Robert’s best pal in Pretty Woman. ‘Yes, she’s smashing.’ I gushed ‘Great costume by the way.’ This comment, despite its good intentions, seemed to irritate her. ‘What costume?’ She asked.

By now, my friends had lingered over, thinking I’d had hit the jackpot, infiltrating a group of single girls in skimpy dresses. As did my uninvited workmate, Dale, who managed to break apart the group. He lured a couple of them to the bar with the line. ‘I bet a couple of sorts like yourselves could use a wet pussy.’

I couldn’t help but cringe, hoping to take enjoyment in the sound of Dale’s face being slapped. However, there was no slap, or slur, instead, the girls giggled and stumbled away with him, arm in arm. Again, I had to appreciate how seriously this bunch of girls were taking their trashy characters. My zombie crush, Ruby, had managed to slip away from the group without anyone noticing. She stumbled towards the door alone, leaving her cigarettes and phone behind. Here was my big opportunity to flirt with her without a four to the floor beat as my soundtrack.

Outside, Ruby had managed to attract the attention of two creepy looking guys in dress up, playing drunks. They were both wearing identical costumes: Nike tracksuits, with TN trainers; proof that the theme of this dress up party was pretty loose. Not unlike the girls inside, these fellas had really given some thought to their characters. One of them had even gone to the trouble of getting a neck tattoo. I did my best to fit in, initially pretending to be an extra.

‘Hey baby, where you off to?’ Neck Tattoo asked, grabbing her arm. I stood back and contemplated what I was going to do, or who I was going to pretend to be. My tight fitting corduroy certainly didn’t lend itself to the look of a tough guy. Peter Parker was my first thought. ‘Hey Ruby, you forgot your smokes and your phone.’ I whispered, not wanting to ruin the scene. ‘Shut up dick head. She’s going to come party with us.’ Slurred Neck Tattoo. Studying the tattoo, It appeared to be an ice-cube. Neck Tattoo pulled a cigarette from his shiny track pants, and took a few drags. ‘She can have one of mine.’ He winked. ‘Could I pinch a light then?’ I asked, now part of the act. But he ignored me and didn’t offer me a cigarette. So I improvised, lighting up one of Ruby’s Winfield Reds. Neck Tattoo took another drag of what was left of his joint, and stuck it in Ruby’s face. ‘Try some of this.’ She waved it away, knocking it out of his hand, and onto the ground. ‘What the fuck was that? Pick it up!’ Yelled Neck Tattoo, pulling at her hair.

I sensed things were getting a little out of hand, even for role-play. Were they a certain type of method actor? So committed. So well-rehearsed. Despite being without a costume, I decided to participate and improvise, going forth with the gusto of a heroic civilian. I plunged towards Neck Tattoo, but tripped on the pavement, accidentally sticking my cigarette right into his ice-cubed jugular. He wailed in pain as the ice-cube on his neck melted. Before his friend could respond, I noticed Ruby’s face quickly turn an unpleasant green. She vomited all over the other guy’s jacket, which kept him distracted in disgust. Neck Tattoo swung at me, but missed. I fell over anyway, completely selling his punch. Good acting I thought. His face turned bright red. He looked as though he was about to lay into my corduroy pants with his TN cross trainers.

The thing is, I probably shouldn’t have got involved. These guys were pros, or at the very least third year students at NYDA or wherever. Still, something was frighteningly real and exhilarating about the whole thing. It was though Neck Tattoo was actually going to kick the shit out of me. Rather than watch my life flash before my yes, though, all I could think about was Dale. He wasn’t even invited to my birthday party. The only reason he was there, was because he accidentally caught wind of the event on Facebook. Fuck Facebook, I thought. The event was set to private, I’m sure of it. Strictly invite only. This kind of thing made me incredibly mad. Maybe Ruby felt the same about me joining her dress up party, without invitation, or a costume. Neck Tattoo certainly did.

Meanwhile, his friend had responded to Ruby’s vomit by throwing up on himself, and suddenly fainting. A ghastly way to exit a scene, but worthy of applause. So technically, it was one on one, if I could only get to my feet. Yet to break her character, Ruby displayed the super human strength that only a zombie could possess. She latched herself onto Neck Tattoo, sucking his blood and replacing the melted ice-cube with an imprint of her teeth. Stunned, I sat there and applauded in sheer delight. Their timing was impeccable, he was only inches away from knocking my very own teeth out. Even the blood gashing from his neck looked authentic. Neck Tattoo’s Nike tracksuit was now ruined. I wondered if it was a rental or one of his own. The TN trainers were fine, but I doubt the costume store would consider refunding his deposit, based on the state of the tracksuit alone.

Ruby helped me to my feet, before throwing up again. That whole scene had really taken it out of her. ‘We should get a move on before he gets up’ I said. ‘I guess he’s going to act like he’s been infected now, and turn into a zombie too.’ She struggled to speak. ‘I’m sorry, I had way too much to drink, I’m really…’ She swallowed hard, turning purple once more. ‘Fucking Dale.’ I cursed, cutting her off. There he was, leaving the bar with the two girls dressed up as hookers. Knowing how far Ruby had pushed her character, it wouldn’t of surprised me if he was going to get laid. ‘He wasn’t even invited!’ I squirmed.

I walked her to the door. ‘If this whole thing is wrapping up, can I call you a cab?’ Ruby nodded. While we waited I was left to do all the talking. I asked her why her character hadn’t bitten me. She just shook her head, but never answered. In hindsight, it was probably stupid of me to ask. Like Dale, I wasn’t invited. Yet, I joined in and played along, without a costume. Still, it was worth it. Ruby’s pale face was the highlight of my night. It was getting pretty late; taxi drivers stopped, but refused to take her home.

‘You know, they probably think you’re drunk; stumbling all over the place like that, vomiting.’ I smiled. ‘Little do they know, you’re such a talented actress.’ Her eyes rolled back into her skull and she let out a painful zombie sounding moan. In awe of her commitment, I whispered… ‘For a dress up party, I think you take your character way too seriously.’