Part 2: The Real Halloween at work

Obviously, we were all hung-over from Saturday night. I noticed it takes my body longer to recover the older I get, hence I practice some serious moderation when it's time to drink, That went to hell Tuesday night, but I'm getting a head of myself, first let me tell you about our contest at work that day. I had worked on the butt-plug costume through Tuesday, to get it ready for that night, but I couldn't wear that to work without being slapped with grievances out the whazoo. So I opted for the Rock Star again. Honestly, I didn't expect to get many comments, it was a blue wig with tight clothes and a leather jacket, but folks seemed fixated on my platform shoes. I forget normal America usually has no interaction with the many strange facets of my social life. A coworker said it must be nice to just wear my normal clothes for a change at work, to which I replied my real clothes are much tighter than this (I was kidding, kinda). My boots were a hit, but Bruno's costume was also adored. Yeah, Bruno and I work together too so I guess that's quite a bit of time for people to share (home, work, friends) but it works, mainly because he's on a different floor and does his own thing at work. Anyway, we did our little costume contest and Bruno was third (which is scandalous considering it took some serious labor), the lab director was second (no one wanted to be unemployed so you gotta toss in a vote for the boss), and I was first place. I don't know if it was the air guitar, the devil signs I waved in the air, or the karate kick with 3 inch platforms, but I somehow snowed 'em over to take first. Bruno said he would have been very bitter if I hadn't done the work on his costume. At this time, I just want to add one side note about Bruno's costume that day. Before we left home, Bruno yanked it off the floor where it had been lying in dog hair since early Sunday morning and the ringed tail was covered in a mixture of beer and dirt. I'm impressed it didn't reek of old cigarette smoke, especially with all the fur, but Bruno had problems getting in and out of it on Saturday. It had a velcro front but Bruno had somehow torn it at the crotch. That Tuesday morning, at home, we were getting costumed up and he noticed the crotch was open. He had on his tie-dyed boxers underneath but refused my suggestion of wearing pants due to the costume being so damn hot inside. He figured no one would spot anything under that fur and he would discreetly hold it close somehow. Those of us who know Bruno laugh at him being associated with discretion. In true Janet Jackson fashion, he walked into the gathering and one of our coworkers noticed his open fly and told him, with everybody else around of course, that he had some low hanging fruit that needed to be put in a basket. Actually, I wished she said that, I think she just said she could see his tie-dyed underwear. I had missed the early show, but as I was walking past the row of offices leading to the cafeteria where the contest was at, I saw one of the older ladies looking in her desk for a safety pin, with Bruno staring sheepishly beside her, to close his crotch up before the contest. I didn't say a word. Actually, I smiled a bit at being right again and at the wise ass crack of another coworker suggesting someone was having guilty pleasures with a 6 ft. cow. If you weren't familiar with lemurs, he could look rather bovine, minus udders or horns; also many gov't workers can't even spell "leemer," much less recognize one. I guess that's why he had a last minute costume addition, a sign that said "I am not a cow."