When I realized that he did not recognize me when I came out from the corner, I have to admit I had a thrilling, evil chill run up my spine. Watching his shoulders shudder ever so slightly, it took every ounce of energy not to burst out laughing and to maintain my carefully applied persona.
The room lighting helped. The strobing light bouncing off the black visqueen "walls" was extremely successful in throwing off even the most manly of men.
But unlike the small groups that entered before and after him, he only entered the room with his mother. His mother, MY mother knew who would be in the room, HE did not. My spot was tucked inside a convenient fold of the visqueen where I could watch this 33 year old man enter following his momma.
I forced the grin off my face just before I walked out into the strobe light and when his eyes happened to notice that the room was no longer empty, that's when I noticed him move slightly behind Mom like a little boy.
I shuffled my way over to him and could see that he didn't particularly like this scary ghoul coming toward him. Only after I grabbed his arm and could not help but start laughing did he realize that he had just been spooked by his baby sister.
So, it's true. Revenge is best served cold and long forgotten.
Many years ago I was part of an Optimist group that held a Haunted Path each October to raise funds to help the kids. The Haunted Path was fun and COLD. Four nights staying out late into the night. I was luckier than most since my area was always visqueened off to allow the strobe light to have its full effect as disoriented group after group would come through.
I learned during the first year to watch the crowd as I would first appear. I would watch for the "weakling", the one or two people in the crowd that would have an instant reaction, just like Rumbles did when they would first see me.
The big burly men were by and large as creeped out as the little kids. I never tried to scare the little kids, but I LOVED it when some big guy would be among the small group and I would just casually let them pass.
The visqueen would move them out of the room into a completely black "hall". As the crowd would line up to go out to the hall, I would quietly fall in right behind the most scared of the group, getting closer and closer until they could sense someone was behind them and when they would turn around to look at me, I would scream just before they would belt out the biggest little girl scream.
Once the crowd would snake their way into the hallway, I would grab at their arms through the plastic or let out an ear-splitting scream through the blackness, listening to the scream echo throughout the crowd.
Now that is POWER.
Our older brother was one of the founding members of the Optimist Club. He has spent his whole life being clean cut, but he scared the most people simply by wearing torn jeans, a leather jacket and a long black wig, looking like some scary biker.
As people would park their cars in the lot, he would just sneak up behind them and begin to follow them closely. It would freak them out before they could even buy a ticket.
I miss those cold nights.
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