‘Twas the weekend before actual Halloween and all through the sorority house,
All the srat girls were stirring their drinks,
At least one ironically dressed up as a mouse.
Their stockings were ripped fashionably with care,
As they trekked to the frats in their incredibly ambitious footwear.

Far away, in a universe not told in rhyme but still equally as out of touch with reality, you stand in your living room, arms akimbo, arguing with your roommate about how you don’t want to go out. Midterms have “literally” killed you, you argue, and when “Halloween is everyday,” the magic begins to fade. You can dress up ridiculously and go to a theme party any weekend. What is special about this one — especially since it isn’t even Halloween? Also, you don’t have a costume. But that is not the point.

Your roommate binge-watched “House of Cards” one time though, so they know how to politics. By the end of the conversation, they have you doubting what you actually want — and also teach you about corruption of the American political system, but that could also just be your social media feeds too. They tell you that you have until they get back from the liquor store to cast your final ballot.

As you lay in your bed, contemplating the temporary nature of life’s many peaks and valleys and also whether you should go out as something funny or hot, you think you hear a noise in your house. Your thoughts immediately racing to the reports of clown sightings off-campus. You think briefly about your family, your friends and the fact that you are kind of hungry and it would suck to die with a growling stomach.

With a slow creak your door opens and you see a child, dressed like Winnie the Pooh. Confused profanities escape your lips, as is the usual reaction to finding unattended children in your home.

“Come on. I thought you went to college to get smarter,” the kid rolls their eyes. “I’m you. From the past. Duh.”

You immediately try to figure out how to react to tiny you. Tell her to avoid flare jeans and polos in middle school? Suddenly a mirror image of you as you are now walks in, except wearing a sexy Winnie the Pooh outfit.

“I am here to tell you about why you need to go out tonight,” sexy Winnie the Pooh says.

From there, sexy Winnie the Pooh and child Winnie the Pooh remind you of a time when you had to worry about strangers putting razorblades in your apples instead of drugs in your drinks. And yet, despite it all, they remind you to live everyday like you are trick-or-treating — like the fearless sense of adventure and willingness to eat 3,500 calories worth of fun-sized candies.

Child Winnie the Pooh also makes sure she gets in a few digs about how she thought she would be a lot smarter and more put together than you are right now.

With that, your resolve is set. You cut up a t-shirt and when your roommate returns, you are dressed as a sexy Winnie the Pooh. Your roommate is pretty concerned about the costume you chose but is willing to enable you and happy you are enabling them. And that is how the Nightmare before Family Weekend came to be.

Patty Terhune is a senior policy studies and television, radio and film dual major. Her most impressive Halloween costume to date could also serve as her LinkedIn headline, as she went as an unemployed writer. You can follow her on Twitter @pattyterhune  or reach her at paterhun@syr.edu. 

Published on October 19, 2016 at 8:31 pm