Halloween over a barrel.

A story of lust and loss...

So I have a good Halloween costume. It’s a construction barrel, one of those plastic orange things we all know and love. I cut the top out of it, and it turns out that there is plenty of space to attach a couple of straps and wear it, just like the proverbial guy who’s gone broke back in the olden days. The barrel costume has evolved over the years, starting with me wearing boxers underneath, sandals, and a safari hat. It has since seen some notable changes, one in particular that makes for a bit of hilarity.

The first year as “barrel boy”, I couldn’t get over how many women would peer over the edge to see if I was wearing anything. Since I was wearing no shirt and my legs were bare, there appeared to be a good chance that I was in fact nude under there. Well, needless to say when year two rolled around, I was. This was incredibly fun---out on the dance floors with Junior just swinging in the breeze. And sure enough, women would peek over the barrel in curiosity and more often than not they would cover their mouths in amazement and do a little 360 for good measure. “My God, you’re NAKED!” To this I usually replied: “Are we partying, or are we partying??” This usually shut them right up.

The barrel was also great for packed bars, because I could quite literally just barrel through at will, with people peeling off the sides as I went. It was also fun for my cohorts, as they could watch me pass under balconies and see the domino-like reaction people had as they looked down at me. And speaking of “looking down at me”, it was also great for laughs when the snooty rich folks would see me and not even crack a smile. You gotta be a real stick-in-the-mud…

Year three I added a white hardhat with a big orange, industrial-style light on top, which drew power from two 12-volt batteries taped to the inside of the barrel. This made me very easy to spot in even the biggest Halloween party crowds because the light was nearly seven feet off the ground, (I’m 6’6”). Anyway, a this point I started entering costume contests and making some decent coin and prizes, but I needed a real kicker to push myself over the top. Then it occurred to me. If women constantly look over the edge to see what’s there, why not give ‘em something more to look at than a shriveled-up unit? (After all, it’s a little nippy at night in the ATL at the end of October.) Then it came to me: apply a strap-on dildo!

So I went to the sex store in search of a suitable addition to my already winning ensemble. In teh process, however, I came upon an even better appendage: a penis “extender”. This is an item that I never thought would exist. It’s rubbery---as “flesh-like” as possible, I suppose, and it's applied like a condom. In fact, if you can picture a very fat condom with a thick head of about an inch and half, you’ve got what I’m saying. Anyway, this thing is clearly designed to go on a woefully undersized erect rod, but I found it works well on recreational drug-riddled, floppy johnsons as well. The only thing was that I had to stuff the thing with compressed plastic bags from the grocery store to make the thing appear to be real on my flaccid jimmy. The end result of this process was a fucking schlong that swung down seemingly just above my knees. Now when these drunken Betty’s had a little look see into the barrel, they get a REAL eyeful---the equivalent of a grandfather clock pendulum swinging back and forth! Needless to say, I would accentuate the ladies' viewings with my best horse-sound imitation, which I unfortunately have no idea how to duplicate in print.

Now I’m not saying these raging good times of barrel outings was getting old, but I needed more. Specifically I wanted to cash in big time instead of picking up the little prizes in the costume contests. I figured the best plan would be to wait to be called for the “audience participation” portion of the contest, step up, drop the barrel, and flip the schlong over the edge, (the barrel stands right at waist-high). Maximum effect---no way I lose.

Fast forward to Atlanta’s Cheetah, one of the top strip clubs in the country. The place was packed, and they were offering up a few grand to the winner of their contest, with the people who place not doing too poorly either. I made the final five, so it was on! My turn came and I stepped forward to receive my public. The emcee says: “Let’s hear it for barrel guy!”, and I drop the barrel and then expose my enormous member over the edge. Gasps, cheers, and laughter. But enough about my Grandparents. Seriously, I got a big reaction that ended up getting HUGE because...the schlong fell off! Right onto the stage in front of god and everybody.

Some people may wonder what the price might be for their dignity. I’ve got mine pegged at about $10.99, which is what the penis extender cost me! I mention this because when I’m inside the barrel, I cannot physically bend down far enough to reach the floor. So now instead of just grabbing the thing and waiting for the results of the judging, I was reduced to asking the emcee to pick up my fake cock. He rightfully said: “fuck that!” and proceeded to kick it into the crowd. Now at this point it became a slow motion scene from a movie. (Picture a basketball player flying into the stands after a loose ball.) The schlong went end-over-end into the crowd and they recoiled while shouting “NOOOO!!!”

Now most people at this point would forget the schlong and make a hasty exit, hence my earlier reference to a price on my dignity. I, however, was determined to retrieve the thing, especially after I placed fourth, just out of the money. I was reduced to going into this crowd of degenerates and trying to talk someone into picking the thing up. It took a good while, but eventually someone hoisted it up between their shoes, just high enough for me to grab it and go back to hitting on Destiny, who really seems to like me for me. Not long after that I took my leave, none the richer for my trouble, but also not in need of another visit to the sex shop to replace my favorite Halloween prop.

Ed note: the author has since retired his Halloween barrel.