No Clowns On Halloween Allowed At My Door | Tragic Comedy

Or "How Ronald McDonald Kicked My Ass"

About ten years ago, shortly before Brenda and I got married, we attended a Halloween party at a friend's house. The primary reason to get together was obviously to dress up like we did when we were little but secondarily to get drunk as a sailor on shore leave.

The standard "funny name" cocktails were offered like "sex on the beach" and "southern screw" and "raw sewage". But the drink that swore me off booze forever (hard liquor, that is) was called a "Ronald McDonald". This drink was composed mainly of vodka, cinammon schnapps and cranberry juice. What made it unique was the addition of a packet of McDonald's ketchup. Stir briskly and drink as quickly as possible. Repeatedly.

You may as well have shut my head in a car door over and over again and had a lesser effect. I woke up sometime after it made no sense to get up and staggered to my car. I was sober enough to realize I was still too drunk to drive and promptly decorated my friend's lawn with a Foster Brooks "Happy Meal". Jaysus.

Each successive Halloween has been soberly celebrated but I still get a little nervous when I see a pale old lady wearing too much lipstick.

One Reply to No Clowns On Halloween Allowed At My Door

Amy Austin | October 29, 2008
For those trying to get the full mental picture of Steve, as described:

Foster Brooks

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