It called for something unique, I thought. I’d be different by disguising myself as someone else entirely; by altering my dress, constructing a mask, and concealing myself completely behind another’s identity.
Of all the people in this world, living their lives day to day, I could think of just one suitable to use as camouflage: Jack Skellington — the pumpkin king.
Six years ago, a bouncy green ball was given to me. With age, it had begun to deflate. Any costume made, I decided, would necessarily serve also as a monument to its faithful service — as well as be its last.
Three point five layers of paper mache, more than a few paper towels, four-layered screen door mesh for his eyes and mouth, a few layers of paint, some fabric for the neck, a bit of padding, and a whole lot of gunned glue later and the mask was complete. Some black foam core, a box cutter, and some white paint — and so was the tie.