No Slutty Witches

I encountered car trouble on the way home eventually resulting in my car dying in my drive, blocking 1/2 of it as an onslaught of costumed 20-somethings were to raid my house.  The rain thwarted our initial attempt at diagnosis so we simply opted to push the car out of the way.  During break in the rain, my brother dressed as dracula in a too small cape, his friend dresseda post-suicide Lehman Brothers Executive, my dad dressed as the world’s gayest looking pirate at me in my staff uniform dressed as…. an Ockanickon Staff member began pushing.  There were two impediments, the fact that the micro-meteorite impact zones of the moon look smooth compared to my driveway and that my dad was convinced that allowing the car to roll downhill would somehow help us push it more.  With a mighty heave my car was parked and we were cheered on by Marilyn Monroe (surprisingly helpful) as dreams of driving home inebriated slutty witches died in my chest.