“Are you still watching?”
“Jesus. Yes, I’m still watching. The first three hours are a
warm-up.”
“…Are you sure?”
“Stop judging me! Just stop!”
But, alas, Netflix did not stop judging the girl. Yes, she
had been locked in for over three hours, but it wasn’t that. It was what she was watching – Elf. Again. It was October 31st.
Karen hated Halloween. Karen was also the worst. I mean,
what kind of sociopath actively chooses to watch a movie with a blonde Zooey
Deschanel? Jessica Day—I mean Summer, argh, I mean Zooey is a brunette icon and
any movie that tries to change that should be blatantly ignored. Wait, sorry,
where was I? Oh yeah, Karen hated Halloween. She was over the slutty cats, the god-awful
pun costumes, the mislabeling of bloodstains as “decorations.” She hated it,
and she was opting out this year.
“Buddy the Elf, what’s your favorite color?!” Blegh. [narrator
involuntarily gags] Karen was hypnotized—lost in the powerful trance that the
most basic of basic Will Ferrell movies has on its victims—until suddenly, she
heard someone banging on her door.
She re-adjusted her Christmas Snuggie and got out of bed to
see who—or what—it was. Karen opened the door. Nothing. Hm. She closed the
door, then looked down. It was a piece of notebook paper. She kneeled down,
picked it up, and reminisced about the last time she held a piece of notebook
paper. “I miss 7th grade,” Karen sighed. The worst.
The notebook paper had a message, scribbled in red pen: You’re not celebrating Halloween? “What
the heck?” Karen muttered. She doesn’t swear; she’s the worst.
Another note suddenly slipped under the closed door: How dare you. Another: wait, no, this
was just a Chinese takeout menu. Okay, now another: If you do not appreciate All Hallows Eve, then I will make you
appreciate it. Karen was terrified. Who was doing this to her? Who would
harass someone like this? Who has this much notebook paper? She opened the door
again—still nobody. Once she closed the door again, another note appeared: You are not ready for me. You will never be
ready for me, for I am the saint of Halloween. I am the one who knocks. And no,
I didn’t steal that line from Breaking Bad—Breaking Bad stole that line from
me. “What the fudge?!” Karen cried out. She never saw an episode—too many
drug references—but she knew this was serious. She threw open the door one last
time. Nothing. Karen started bawling. She was desperate, anxious, confused—until
she looked up: “…Lorde?”
The international pop sensation was sprawled out where the
wall meets the ceiling like some kind of Hot Topic Spider-Man. “Yes! It is I,”
she bellowed, descending from the ceiling and entering Karen’s apartment
without permission like a godless monster.
“This is so freaking random! You’re friends with Taylor
Swift, right?! What’s that like?” Karen masked her terror with a burst of
excitement.
“That’s how you
know me?! Oh, dear Satan, she’s more basic than we thought,” Lorde exhaled. “I
come to you not for my music. I come to you not for Ye Dark Lord’s arch-demon
Taylor Swift. I come to you, tonight, as the patron saint of Halloween.”
“You, Lorde, are
the patron saint of Halloween?”
“Are you surprised?”
Karen shook her head. Saint Lorde continued, “Our administration
team at the Gates of Hell was notified that you were… dear Satan, purchasing Christmas
decorations in October. I was thereby summoned to show you the power of our
dearly beloved Hallows Eve.”
“But they’re super cheap in October…”
“You’re super cheap
in October!”
Lorde’s too famous to think of comebacks. “Heh… sorry, uh,
so I will bring you three ghosts tonight: a Past ghost, a Present ghost, and a
Future ghost. After these three, if you still don’t believe in the power of
Halloween, then we shall never disturb you again. Bye!” Karen barely had a
second to process what the eff was happening when someone knocked on her door. She
quickly pulled herself together, and turned the knob. Her eyes widened with
fear. “…Josh?”
It was her ex-boyfriend—still the hottest person she’d ever
seen—and he brought a date. “Ha, yeah… How’ve ya been, Kare?” Karen broke her
petrified stare to extend her hand to the girl. “I don’t think we’ve met…” The
girl immediately snapped, “No. But you know who I am. I know you do. You
accidentally double-tapped one of my pictures from 63 weeks ago, you fucking
stalker.”
Karen shrieked a blood-curdling scream and slammed the door
shut. She had never been so scared in her life. She turned around to see Lorde
slow-clapping by herself. “Yes, yes. This is so much more entertaining than
that dwarf movie you were watching.” Karen muttered her favorite movie’s title
beneath her tears, but Lorde kept talking over her because she is literally
from hell, remember? “Now come. Join me, I shall accompany you to see your
Present Ghosts.” Lorde levitated over to Karen (walking is for mortals) and led
them both to the door. Karen nervously opened it, but this time she didn’t see
her hallway. The door opened to her aunt’s house, in the middle of her family’s
annual Halloween party. “But, but they told me she wasn’t having her party this
year…” Her dad stumbled in from the kitchen, wearing a homemade t-shirt that
said ‘KEVIN’ on top of an ironed-on picture of bacon. “Honey, is it bad that I feel
fine about telling Karen the party was cancelled? I can’t put up with another
year of her judgy preachy rant against Halloween.” Her mom, dressed as a
‘cereal’ killer, laughed. “Aw, of course not. She’s just insecure, that’s all.”
Karen’s aunt chimed in, “What is that girl doing after graduation anyway?”
Karen’s mom answered, “No idea, let’s analyze her best and worst qualities for
the next 45 minutes and figure it out!”
“GET. ME. THE FRICK. OUT OF HERE.” Karen grabbed Lorde’s
pale arm and ran for the door. Tears were streaming down her face. Her worst
nightmare was unfolding right in front of her. She had to escape. Karen rubbed
her swollen eyes and when she reopened them, they were back in her apartment.
She ran to her bed, crying, “This is why I hate Halloween! It’s not okay to
scare people like this! Nobody should ever have to live through that! And Zooey
Deschanel looks better blonde!” Wow, I hope this girl dies in the end. I mean,
anyway, so this pissed Lorde off—but Lorde, like the true goddess that she is, transcended
anger and responded warmly. “Karen, I know how you feel. I was scared once.”
“Ah, really?”
“No, you wanker. I’m Lorde. Fear is for the mainstream.
Nevertheless, your honesty reveals that it is time. You are ready, for the
Future ghost.”
“No, God, please no. I’m not ready. Please, stop this!”
Knock, knock. Karen quivered in terror. Her Past Ghost and
Present Ghost were too frightening to endure; what could possibly be worse? She
didn’t want to open the door, but knew that she didn’t really have a choice. I
mean, you don’t want to look like a wuss in front of international pop
sensation Lorde, come on.
Her hand was trembling as she unwillingly turned the
doorknob—“ay, girl.”
She slowly opened her eyes. “…Future?”
There he was, the Future himself, holding a cup of dirty
Sprite. “Yeah, shorty. Didn’t Lorde literally tell you that a Future ghost was
visiting? What you expect? Oh, and check this.” Future went to take a sip of
his drink, but it just poured right through his glowing, translucent face.
“Future Ghost, shorty. Best rapper alive. Eh, not that alive. You get it.”
Future squared himself, and looked right at Karen. “Listen,
girl. I’ma get serious with you. You can’t skip Halloween, you just can’t. You
don’t wanna turn out like me. I used to be just like you. Except, well, cooler.
But I loved Christmas just like you. Seriously, I used to think The Nightmare
Before Christmas was a Christmas movie. Don’t tell Lorde that. But yeah, damn,
I was all about Christmas. Damn, last year I just skipped Halloween. Just
skipped it, I didn’t care. Damn, I regret that everyday. Lorde floated right in
my house and straight up ruined my life. I was with Ciara, Ciara. The most underrated chick in the world. She left me that
Halloween. Now I got Amber Rose’s best friend tweeting at me, nah. I was the
hottest rapper out there, now have you heard my latest mixtape? Just the title,
damn, ‘What a Time to Be Alive’?! The fuh out here with that title. Sounds like
Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood, damn. I’m done, just done. You don’t want it, Karen.
Halloween’s powerful, can’t ignore it. Don’t turn out like me, ma. Don’t let
Ciara leave you. Don’t do it. Peace, Future Ghost out.”
That’s all Karen needed to hear, straight out of the mouth
of her favorite rapper….’s most recent collaborator. Finally, she appreciated
the sheer magnitude of this night. “Atone me, St. Lorde! I succumb to the power
of Hallows Eve.” Lorde smiled—kidding, Lorde never smiles. But she gave a Posh
Spice happy-looking grimace. “Only I and Demon Swift are allowed to talk like
that, but, alas, my work here is done.” And just like that, Lorde vanished.
Karen was still paralyzed with confusion, but she was
undeniably sure of one thing: Christmas never sent cool celebrity ghosts to her
apartment. What more could you ask for in a holiday?
...What’s that? Presents? God—shut up about the presents,
for the love of our Lorde and savior.