Yeah, you heard me. Years and years of completely racially- insensitive white buffoons who insist on wearing me for a Halloween party have finally worn me down. Now, the tables are turning. A full-180.
Oh, you don’t like that, Bryan? Well, I didn’t like when you wore me and a cheap Spirit Halloween poncho to Ashley’s Halloween banger in 2017, claiming to just be dressed as an entire country you’ve never even been to. Was Ashley impressed? I doubt it, considering I ended up gently tucked back into your closet after your walk home alone.
I think I might wear a basketball jersey and baseball hat sitting too high on my head, or perhaps get an unflattering haircut and stick a few pens in my front shirt pocket. Maybe I’ll even run around telling other partygoers that I “work in finance” without further detail, or wink at a clearly disinterested woman until she feels uncomfortable and leaves. I could wear a Patagonia Better Sweater with some ambiguous corporate logo embroidered and a pair of silly socks my mother got me for Christmas tucked into gray sweatpants. I could make a mockery of you, Bryan.
And you, in the hula skirt? Or you, in the Party City Pocahontas costume? Ninja outfit? You all are next. Watch your backs, assholes.
