Aaron dressed as Where's Waldo for Halloween. That night, walking around the city proved to be an absolute hell. Not five minutes went by without someone yelling, "There's Waldo!" or "I found Waldo!" or "I found you!" or "I've been looking for you!" Worst of all was the way in which the people yelled at him, each one thinking they were the first to do so. Some would get up in his face, making sure he saw how funny they were. Others would say it loud enough for everyone around them to hear. It got more aggressive as the night went on, as the guys got guyier and the girls got girlier.
Around one in the morning, Aaron retired to a bar, deep in a secluded neighborhood, well away from the Halloween hubbub. He ordered a drink. He was given two. The second was courtesy of another Where's Waldo, slunked over at the other end of the bar, his patience raped even more than Aaron's had been. The two Where's Waldos then toasted one another's plight.
"To the plight of Where's Waldo."
"To the plight of Where's Waldo."
. . .
Before they could even bring the glasses to their mouths, a third Where's Waldo burst through the doors, frantic and covered in other people's blood.
"I couldn't take it. I just couldn't goddamn take it!"
It was up to Aaron and the second Where's Waldo to hide the bloody Where's Waldo. And hide him they did. One newspaper's headline this morning read WHERE'S WALDO? So did another. And a third read WHERE'S WALDO? too. And a fourth. In fact, no other headline was chosen.
An investigation's pending. The police have enlisted the help of the over 600 people said to have yelled that they "found Waldo" last night.
© 2005 Thomas Edward Bayne & Jennifer Lin Dykeman & Kenneth Aaron Hughes