Last night I went to a goth club which had a sub theme of Apocalyptic (which includes post-apocalyptic and other sub-sub-themes).  My ridiculous costume involved armor, car parts, electroluminescent wire, a mouse pad, handcuffs, and a plastic wild west revolver.  I walked through the streets like this because I couldn't get my coat to fit over the spikes.  It was worth it both for the looks on people's faces and the fact that nobody even tried to ask what the hell I was doing.  The downside was that dancing in a crowd resulting in slapping people with parts of my armor.

 

My wonderful getup allowed me to be in the costume contest.  The host asked each person what they are supposed to be.  Most people were saying matter-of-factly "wastelander," or some specialization of wastelander.  I started to wonder--why so serious?  We're adults and we look like a bunch of freaks from Fallout, Mad Max, and Doomsday.  How is this not funny?  Plus I was drunk.  So when my turn came up, I declared with no uncertain conviction that I was Charlie Sheen from the year 2045. This was accompanied by lewd pelvic gesturing.  The applause was thunderous.