Cinnamon & Sloth

sin-chronicles-volume-14

Sunday, October 23, 2016

I entered SIN roughly a half an hour after open and changed into costume — Vermin’s trademark flannel and tattered jeans. Once at the front of the house I found that there were no customers so I worked my way through the maze and discovered that a core of regulars were absent for the evening. It bummed me out that many of my favorite people weren’t there but I believe in making the best of things so that’s what I set out to do.

It ended up being a slow, mostly uneventful night but one group comprised of local high school football players afforded Vermin an opportunity to bare his teeth. There were four of them but one refused to exit the back seat of a car and for that he was ridiculed. The other three entered the building, purchased tickets and entered haunt zero. The players attended Roosevelt which is the high school in Wyandotte for you non-locals, each sported hoodies or other paraphernalia that identified them as members of the varsity squad.

I had already heard that the football team had lost to Woodhaven on Friday night, but those boys didn’t know that — not yet anyway. I built them up for a minute, lured them in and then smacked them hard with an insult over the recent loss. I saw disappointment and, dare I say, shame in their eyes. It was a thing of beauty and it amused me greatly. If there’s one thing on this planet for which I have absolutely zero interest or need it is high school football.

The players entered the attraction but we would cross paths once more when fate intervened — in the form of a bathroom break of all things. I was needed to cover for the actor in the Bundy room so I decided to whip up something special for the student-athletes. I tapped into Vermin’s well of the anger and instructed one of the boys to sit in a chair while I delivered a haunting monologue about loss and regret. I told him to remember the moment and to recall it in a time of regret. I told him to understand it as truth and urged him to appreciate the gravity of regret. As the trio departed, the one would had sat in the chair stopped and said, “That’s actually really good advice.”

He was right, it was good advice. The kind of advice that only one who has known regret can deliver. I like to think that some day he’ll think back on that moment and be supremely weirded out.

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