Things That Go Bump In The Dark

It's late. I get on the metro in Columbia Heights, having just visited a haunted house (staged yearly, I'm told, by the friends and neighbours of our local Special Assistant to the Director of the Office of Scholarly Programs, whose job this year was to grab peoples ankles as they clambered up the stairs, running from the chainsaw wielding maniac in the yard).

Back to the metro: the car is almost empty, apart from a dapper musketeer, a slutty bee (I think), some guy who clearly just was in a motorcycle crash (and still holds a piece of the bike in his hands), two Kiss members, and a zombie. Discussing, I shit you not, string theory. In pretty serious and competent tones, too; the conversation got quite intense, at one point especially when they started debating branes, which is when my smile got so broad it became apparent to everyone I was not really reading my book. Zombies arguing about different types of branes? You can't blame me for bad puns if life just throws them at me.

Here's another Halloweeny pic for all of you (snapped on my way to the laundromat):

Also: propaganda pumpkins FTW.