Sleepin' On 20s Once Again

We faltered last year. It was an ego-destroying loss to Cap'n Crunch on his turf. "Never again," we cried, referring to losing, not dressing up. Redemption, thy name is 2006.

If you have no idea what I'm talking about, last night was Halloween. Goni and I do a decent Maverick and Goose. Before last night, we had grossed $600 and free admission to The Bluebird in Bloomington for the Fiscal Halloween Years 2001-2002 and 2004-2005.

I was appalled at the lack of costume contests on Halloween proper in the city of Chicago. My options were further limited by weak first-place prizes that were being offered, such as $50, gift certificates to the bar, or free parties at the bar. What is this, amateur hour?

It soon became aware to me that our best bet was a place called Kit Kat Lounge & Supper Club, located at 3700 N. Halsted. The address indicated that it was in Boys Town, but the website and online reviews made no mention of it being a gay bar. My lovely wife Jessie told me that she didn't think it was a gay bar either. Being surrounded by homosexuals wasn't a concern for Goni and me; our concern was that we would be up against immaculately designed costumes.

The $500 first prize was enough to entice us. So Goni, his special layfriend Beth (dressed excellently as Poison Ivy from Batman & Robin), and I headed over there around 8:30. Upon our arrival, it was a mixed crowd of males and females. My first clue that it was possibly a gay bar was that they did not have the obligatory Mav & Goose favorite beer, Budweiser, in bottles (or on tap). No big deal. We made due with $5 Miller Lites. My second clue that it was a gay bar was when I overheard some dude say, "Hey Tom Cruise, can I smack your ass?" I politely ignored this request, not wanting to upset a potential voter by turning him down, but at the same time not wanting to get my ass smacked. My third clue that it was a gay bar was when a girl that we were talking to asked me, "Are you gay?" I responded, "No." She responded, "Then what are you doing here?" I said something like "to pick up dudes" and then walked away.

Anyway, the contest was pretty good. We made it to the semi-finals against Poison Ivy, Flavor Flav, Mystique from X-Men, and some dude dressed in a shiny dress carrying around some sort of toy phaser gun that shot smoke rings. In the finals, it was us, Flavor Flav, and Mystique. Any concerns I had about going against excellent costumes were drowned out by the deafening cheers for Mav and Goose. It turns out that both straight and gay people like us.

The manager promptly handed us 25 20s, and we got ourselves a celebratory shot before we left. When I got back home, I woke Jessie up. She didn't seem to be as enthused about my 12.5 20s as I had hoped. I made a nice pillow with my 20s and slept like a pimp.

And for any of you out there that like to give Goni and me guff about dressing up as Mav & Goose every damn year, I simply ask you this: when's the last time your costume got you $1,100 and an invitation for an ass-smacking from a handsome man?