A schediastic hootenanny

So it seems likely that I am going to a Halloween party this year. I may yet duck it because I'm so unspeakably busy freelancing, but failing that, I will be attending my first fancy-dress soiree in a couple of years.

Now, it is very likely that I will spend a terrible amount of my precious time selecting and constructing just the right costume, intricate, clever and played to the hilt, only to show up at the party and see a hundred store-bought Austin Powers and Sexy Nurses drunk on Goldschlager. That's fine. I've made my peace with that. The only person I need to satisfy is myself, and to a far lesser extent, you.

The problem is, there are but a few costume options available to your middle-aged fat man, and they grow fewer as I get older and fatter. I lack the élan of a Homer Simpson, the perspicacity of a Peter Griffin, the tonsorial daring of an Uncle Marvel. And so I turn to the classics.

The possibilities:

IGNATIUS J. REILLY (from John Kennedy Toole's novel A Confederacy of Dunces)
GEAR NEEDED: floppy hat, false moustache, lumber jacket, cardboard cutlass, overactive pyloric valve
ADVANTAGES: easily accomplished, hilarious, possibly recognizable, gives opportunity to speak in overwrought pseudo-medieval argot all night
DRAWBACKS: possibly not recognizable, likely a tad too predictable for a self-loathing fat man

BENNY PROFANE (from Thomas Pynchon's novel V.)
GEAR NEEDED: cowboy hat, black jeans, cowboy boots, drinking problem, low self-esteem
ADVANTAGES: I already have all those things
DRAWBACKS: not recognizable, character is rather younger than me, boring

PIGGY (from William Golding's novel Lord of the Flies)
GEAR NEEDED: Coke-bottle glasses, British schoolboy outfit, ass-mar inhaler
ADVANTAGES: possibly recognizable, easily converted into Angus Young costume
DRAWBACKS: sight of me in British schoolboy outfit likely to trigger epidemic of vomiting and uncomfortable looks

GREGOR SAMSA (from Franz Kafka's story The Metamorphosis)
GEAR NEEDED: giant cockroach outfit
ADVANTAGES: role would require simply donning giant cockroach outfit and avoiding human contact
DRAWBACKS: much like my normal life except with expensive giant cockroach outfit, homemade cockroach outfit would be very expensive and time-consuming, store-bought cockroach outfit would be very expensive and cheesy

BIG BROTHER (from George Orwell's novel Nineteen Eighty-Four)
GEAR NEEDED: false mustache, military uniform, glowering expression, fake TV screen to stand behind
ADVANTAGES: easily accomplished, recognizable, would give me the opportunity to have people arrested for treason
DRAWBACKS: unnervingly similar to dressing up like Hitler or Stalin

DR. GONZO (from Hunter S. Thompson's book Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas )
GEAR NEEDED: Hawaiian shirt, flowered briefcase with "Chicano Power" sticker, loud tie, huge knife
ADVANTAGES: fun, possibly recognizable, gives opportunity to get outrageously fucked up on drugs and alcohol
DRAWBACKS: possibility that I will be murdered by cocaine dealers

CHARLES FOSTER KANE (from Orson Welles' film Citizen Kane)
GEAR NEEDED: false mustache, smoking jacket, patrician demeanor, cigarette holder, billions of dollars
ADVANTAGES: easily accomplished, possibly recognizable, possibility dancing girls will sing a song in praise of me
DRAWBACKS: a tad grandiose

KASPAR GUTMAN (from Daishell Hammett's novel The Maltese Falcon)
GEAR NEEDED: all-white suit, bald pate, cane, sadistic homosexual henchman
ADVANTAGES: easily accomplished, recognizable, entertaining, chance to match wits with drunk guy dressed as Bogart
DRAWBACKS: possibly addictive

MR. SOPHISTICATION (from John Cassavetes' film The Killing of a Chinese Bookie)
GEAR NEEDED: false mustache, extremely garish tuxedo, microphone, severely creepy banter
ADVANTAGES: inspired, simple
DRAWBACKS: unsettling, absolutely the most pointlessly obscure costume in history of mankind

OLDER JAKE LAMOTTA (from Martin Scorsese's film Raging Bull)
GEAR NEEDED: sweaty tux, big cigar, hot blonde to verbally berate
ADVANTAGES: easy, involves hot blonde
DRAWBACKS: really not so much a costume as just a suit, involves repeatedly bashing bare forehead against concrete wall

And now, inevitably, the part where you fill out a form.

I hear your music playin’ in the background
Wack sounds barked out by your bitch-ass pack hounds
Back down, dog, before I bring the smack down
Act clown and you’re sure to get your back browned
Like your name was Sam, but I’m the son of
Gun of, run of this town like Willie Horton
Burnin’ off slugs like I was made by Morton’s
Sortin’ out motherfuckers always shortin’
Bringin’ you five mics, but where my change at?
You, Rover, over there – now where the range at?
Dirty dog, you got shots, so where your mange at?
Deranged dingbat, sing that, ‘cause you can’t rap it
My tricks ain’t for kids, you silly fuckin’ rabbit
Grab it, nab it, I retrieve it and rehab it
Sabotage of the rhymes becomes a habit
Won’t wait ‘til Monday, I roll on the Shabbat
Day of rest but I’m blessed ‘cause I’m arrestin’
MCs like McCloud, with loud protestin’
Bite my rhymes, they’ll give you indigestion
Talkin’ out your ass like rap Olestrin
Lesser men than you have tried to test me
Bad touch much? Your mic cannot molest me
Don’t get testy, you’re no scientist, see?
Don’t get chesty, my rhymes will soothe your breast, see?
Lest we forget, you’ll get what you came for
What you’ll take will make you say my name for
Hours after I make you show your shame for
Tellin’ lies that I am not to blame for
If you had one peel of real upon your body
You’d know my flow like Kelly knew karate
Ante up, throw panties, all you hotties
Layin’ pipe like I was Rowdy Roddy