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The Funk of Forty Thousand Years

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Written by Emma Grosskopf

Picture yourself with all of your gal pals on a Thursday night. You’re all dolled up and making your way through the chilly fall evening to Awful Arthur’s for College Night. Even though Halloween has passed, there seems to be an eerie haze on the evening.

It’s close to midnight, and something evil’s lurking from the dark. It’s the Salemites, coming from whatever corner of town to make their appearance known to the college kids, and especially the young ladies. As you hand your ID to the guy at the door, over his shoulder horror looks you right between your eyes. You’re paralyzed.

You try to make your way through the throngs of Salemites to the bar to get a drink, and your friends are pressed close to you. Before you get there, one of them catches you around the waist and pulls you close. It’s terrifying: he smells like BO, his fingernails are dirty and the scariest part: he’s wearing flip-flops with his jeans. You look around frantically for your friends to come rescue you, but no one’s gonna save you from the beast about to strike.

You pull your arm away and retreat to the bathroom. You try to collect yourself at the mirror, but then you hear the door slam, and you realize there’s nowhere left to run. A Salemite lady wearing a too-small t-shirt, cowboy boots and bad eyeliner enters the bathroom and drunkenly shouts that she likes your skirt. She reaches out for you, and you feel the cold hand, and you wonder if you’ll ever see the sun.

Dodging her slurred compliments, you make your way back out of the bathroom to find your friends, who hopefully have bought you a drink for your trouble, and then you end up chatting with one of the security guys who isn’t so bad.

And then it’s last call. You down your drink in the hopes of getting one more, but all the while you hear a creature creeping up behind.

You’re out of time.

As your friends try to usher you out the door, the remaining Salemites check you out with bleary eyes. They’re out to get you, there’s demons closing in on every side. Guys that don’t want to go home alone. Ladies that should have packed it in hours ago. Awful’s employees begging you to leave.

While you and your friends walk home, sticking together (because that is how RC college kids stay safe!), you realize that you’re safe from the grisly ghouls from every tomb that surfaced that night.

Until next week, when, once again, you will be unable to resist the evil of the Thriller!

Ahahahahahaha!