Last Halloween, I decided to dress up as a zombie. Spent hours on my makeup — fake blood, torn clothes, the whole thing.
I looked terrifying.
On my way to the party, I stopped at a gas station. The cashier saw me, screamed, and hit the panic button.
Before I knew it, the cops showed up. I had to convince them I wasn’t a real zombie.
Let’s just say, next time I’m sticking to something less dramatic.
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