"Oh hell! Geneva, there's an invitation to a Halloween party in today's mail, and it's departmental."
Edwin Chambers was upset. It had been difficult when his wife, Geneva, had only been able to get a position at a small, Mid-Western college where football was important and cheerleaders actually had status on campus. Worse, now that his doctorate was finished the only openings were also in the local area and part-time so they couldn't leave for loftier surroundings. Still, they could have borne their diminished academic standing for the present if only the Dean hadn't been in the habit of encouraging intra-faculty socializing with mindless holiday gatherings.
"Here, let me look at the calendar. Surely there's somewhere we have to be that we can use as an excuse to decline."
Geneva looked over the top of her gold rimmed glasses at their schedule of upcoming events and groaned. Friday, October 31st was blank and so was the rest of the weekend. There was no possible way of avoiding being at the Faculty Club (a horrible place full of club chairs and paneled walls that fairly reeked of privilege) along with everyone else in the School of Arts and Humanities.
"The worst part is that it says costumes are required. Can you imagine anything so juvenile? Even undergraduates should know better!" Geneva was getting into the mood of the rant. She began to stalk back and forth across the living room of the modest apartment that was all their combined junior faculty salaries could afford. "And if I know Tolliver, he'll be there taking notes so that he can gently chastise anyone who isn't in the spirit of the thing. The man is so jolly it makes my skin crawl. Hasn't he the slightest understanding of intellectual despair? This isn't the best of all possible worlds, after all."
Edwin groaned empathetically. "You're right about that. I really don't understand this place. There are some really excellent minds here who could find prominent positions in any first-rank university but they don't leave. I've even asked around a bit but all anyone will say is that the place grows on you. They make it sound like a covering of mold or something."
Geneva stopped dead in her tracks. "Edwin, you're a genius! What a perfect idea for costumes that would be. I'll just get some ugly grey carpeting or something and cut a couple of . . . hmmm . . . let me see. Riding capes would work, I think. They we just need hoods with black screen over the faces and if I wear heels, we'll be the same height. If anyone asks, we're colonies of something dreadful, cholera perhaps. And if we don't say anything, no one will know which one of us is which. You make up some laboratory labels in giant size and we won't even have to explain. The best part is that if we're really disgusting, no one will want to talk to us and we can beg off and leave early. Good thinking, dear, as usual."
Edwin was feeling rather proud of himself after that and hustled off to the computer to make up proper labels. He wanted to make sure that they were perfect copies of the kind that were stuck to the tops of culture dishes so he called an acquaintance in Microbiology for the specifications. By the evening of the party, each shapeless garment was marked front and rear with a warning that the contents were acutely contagious and highly lethal. The plan seemed perfect.
One thing that the couple hadn't counted on was how stiff carpeting really is. It didn't take long before they realized that driving was impossible and that they would have to don the costumes after arriving on campus. They'd hardly made their way out of the parking lot when it also became clear that carpet, as a garment, was immensely hot.
"I don't know about you, dear," Edwin confessed to his wife, "but I'm going to step over into the shadow there and get out of these clothes. Even naked underneath, this outfit is really too warm."
"I hate to admit it, but you're right Edwin. I suppose I should have thought of this but at the time it seemed like such a good idea. Alright, let's get naked and stash the clothes in the trunk" She gave an uncharacteristic giggle. "Remember how we used to do that back in Stanford when we were dating?"
Once they'd hidden their street clothes, the couple slowly made their way to the Faculty Club and the dreaded social event. As they walked, however, Edwin kept mulling over Geneva's words. She was right. There had been many a time when, as undergrads, they'd stripped down somewhere secluded and left their clothes in the car to cavort naked and happy through the woods to finally tumble down together on some soft grassy spot. There they had tried to see if they did indeed remember all the positions of the Kama Sutra and if they could actually do them. What had happened in the short six years since to turn them into such sober and politically correct people, he wondered.
Two identical, pestilential-looking heaps arrived at the door to the Faculty Club bar and silently handed over the invitation to the department secretary. Jaime, dressed as a French maid, sat at a table with a growing collection of empty glasses beside her. She gaped at them and then burst into such a fit of giggles that it looked as though she might pop out of the top of her costume any moment.
"Oh my God, you two! Those are brilliant. I can't even tell which is which."
Edwin and Geneva bowed gravely and silently in response and entered the room. The sight that greeted them was mind-boggling. Otherwise dignified full professors and upwardly mobile young grad students seemed to have taken complete leave of their senses. Plunging necklines, vampire gowns slit to the hip, men in leather harnesses on leashes . . . what had gotten into these people?
Geneva quickly nudged her husband into a darker corner behind a large potted plant. "They're crazy, they're all crazy, Edwin. Did you have any idea it was going to be
that