With Bridgett busy, I approached Randall Maynard, the lead designer at Cracked and the guy whose desk is right next to mine. Some would say he's my desk buddy, but really, he's the Dr. Cox to my John Dorian.
"Slick design, right? Heeeeeeere's Duddy!"
"OK, Duddy, I'm going to stop you right there."
I put down my hand ax. Randall pulled my chair out and motioned for me to take a seat. I knew this was about to be an important life lesson, because suddenly I could hear The Shins playing in the background (i.e., John Shin from accounting brought his infant son to work and was playing with him behind us). Luckily, I was able to play it cool.
"RANDALL, IS THIS ABOUT TO BE AN IMPORTANT LIFE LESSON?"
"Duddy, first of all, wearing a T-shirt to a Halloween party isn't the same as a costume. Yes, placing a Muppet in The Shining is a swell joke for a T-shirt, and yes, it's probably a perfect choice for casual wear. But not for a Halloween party, because, again, that's what costumes are for."
"I'm glad you addressed this. This was a teachable moment."
"No, it wasn't. And we work in an open office space. We all see you walking around asking people about your shirt and then taking your shirt off and changing into a new one. Go to the bathroom to change, or better yet, stop asking us what T-shirt to wear to a costume party and do your work or something."
"Hey, I needed that. Thanks desk buddy. Woogidy wooogidy woogidy woogidy," I said, doing our secret handshake inspired by the hit show Rocket Power, our special twist being that, while I do the finger-twirling, Randall holds his head in his hands and silently weeps.
I decided where I went wrong was not asking the opinion of my best friend and sensei (my friendsei), Alex Schmidt.
"Hey Alex," I said, jumping out from behind Alex's desk, brandishing a bloody knife. "It's a Shy Guy mashed with Jason Voorhees T-shirt! I'm thinking this will really kill at your Halloween party."
Alex didn't laugh, probably because he couldn't hear me on account of being knocked into semi-consciousness from falling over backwards due to knife-terror. I leaned in to tell him my joke again. Tom, Randall, and Bridgett hurried over.
"Goddammit Duddy," Tom said, in a good way. "Go get help."
"OK, OK, but first -- good shirt, right?"
Tom grabbed me with both hands by the collar and lifted me with enormous strength.
"You know what, pal?"
"What?" I trembled.
Tom ran his thumbs between the folded bunches of shirt.
"Wow, this is pretty soft." Tom set me down. "The thread quality on this is sensational."
"Yeah," everyone agreed, touching the fabric. "Solid shirt."
Alex moaned in agreement before passing out, presumably out of excitement that I had finally found the perfect costume for the best Halloween party ever, and thank you, this has been my inner monologue.
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