Incidental Amusements

I met the love of my life one Halloween morning after an unfortunate shopping cart collision in the Staples parking lot severed his leg.

I had just bought last-minute supplies for a slap-dashed costume I had been planning when it happened.

We spent the next 15 minutes bonding as I used my new Scotch tape to adhere his appendage's torn flesh. I learned that his name was Brian, that he liked hunting and enjoyed running but wasn't very fast and that, yes, he would spend the day with my friends and me.

"I think I really like you," I told him.

"Brains," he replied.

I was filled with a giddy sort of lovesick anticipation for the day ahead, a feeling I can only equate with childhood Halloweens spent hopped-up on innocence and pilfered Skittles.

My mind was filled with wild expectations for our future. I had visions of my friends frolicking with us through idyllic apple-picking orchards before retiring to our well-decorated abode to carve humorous caricatures onto pumpkins.

Quickly, I dragged him back to my residence hall, careful to collect any limbs he dropped along the way, but when we arrived and I introduced him to everyone, my fantasies imploded.

I had never known my friends to be as rude to someone as they were to Brian.

"Guys, you're being very inhospitable," I informed them. "Are the knives really necessary?"

"Oh, God, it's going to eat us," they exclaimed unhelpfully.

"I think he bites to show affection," I responded.

Still, their cruelty saddened me and I ran into the bathroom to cry. The shallow plebeians that they clearly were, I didn't think they could understand our growing love. I supposed they couldn't see beyond Brian's Halloween exterior: the yellow teeth, the broken, blue-tinted skin, the odor reminiscent of month-old pizza. None of this bothered me, though; I could see his sensitive soul. If only they could see it, too. With that, I dried my eyes and left the bathroom.

But when I returned, surprisingly, my friends were no longer wielding kitchen cutlery against Brian.

"You guys ready to be nice?" I asked.

"Brains," they replied.

"Good," I said, "I'm glad you're starting to understand each other."

Beaming, I watched as my friends and Brian all approached me, arms stretched towards me as if for a group hug and I thought how nice it was to be accep-BRRRRRRRAAAAIIIIIINNNNNSSSSS.