William Throckmorton the III is an introvert.
So of course he loves dressing up. Whether on stage, at a formal affair, or, as in this case, for Halloween, Willie looks forward to dressing in costume.
“Sure, I might have issues,” he tells me from behind his mask. “That doesn’t mean I don’t do it for the children.”
Willie has dressed up tonight. He is Jason, from the second movie. Not, as he is careful to point out, Jason I or Jasons III through VIII or whatever they’re up to now. I couldn’t give you the specifics – I stopped listening after he got through detailing the differences between the first three Jasons.
All I know is that he is excited about it.
“They love me!” he shouts, coming in from the second-floor porch, a beer in his hand. “I mean, those kids just love me!” He pauses. “Have you seen my ax?”
Oh, if I only had a dime every time someone asked me that.
And why wouldn’t the kiddies love him? Man-made fog runs heavily down the front of the house while a CD of screaming cats, startled women, and discordant piano wire pours out the windows. A strobe light blinks manically at a three -foot skull in one of the five windows as Willie, dressed as Jason II, paces, gesticulating wildly, from one end of the porch to the other.
“Have a terrrrrrrible night! Have a terrrrrrrrible night!” he howls.
While there aren’t as many kids going door to door on a Sunday night, Willie gives it his all. His love of the performance doesn’t vary by audience! That’s not the kind of hockey-mask-wearing weirdo he is. There are still people walking their dogs and heading to the bus, after all; and Willie leans out of the upstairs window, lowering, by rope, a gruesome rubber hand as they pass, shouting “If only I could get a head in the world! Won’t someone give me a hand?”
The crowds love it.
Willie’s performance piece will go on for another hour or so, whereupon he will shed his alter ego and make his lunch for tomorrow.
Whereupon the mild-mannered machinist will resume his public persona.
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