Description:

A super-duper hunk of burnin' love!

The ultimate in humorous, this crazy character is sure to leave an impression. The super-exaggerated costume includes jacket, pants, cape, shoulder pads, mask and hands. The mask measures 15 inches across and 35 inches long. The hands are 12 inches across and 24 inches from wrist to tip of middle finger. One size fits most. This item is returnable ONLY if it is returned in perfect, unused condition.


Dr. Thorpenstein: AaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!

Zackula: There are a lot of horrifying things to focus on, but it's all about the eyes. The normal human eyes peering out Buffalo Bill style from inside the skinsuit.

Dr. Thorpenstein: I think the hands are what freaked me out most. Look at those veiny, clawlike grandma hands, with their gaudy rings and yellowing nails. They look like the hands of an old gypsy woman, an old gypsy woman who's seizing your throat and spitting a curse that makes you get really thin and it's WAY worse than it sounds, so it turns out.

Zackula: Oh, man, what if both the outer shell and the man inside are alive simultaneously? Maybe the man is imprisoned within, as if this thing swallowed him, and it's wandering around laughing really loudly and waving it's giant gypsy hands for drinks while inside the trapped man peers out with mad horror.

Zackula: Somewhere there are a whole bunch of these walking around empty.

Zackula: Waiting for you to stray from the pack or get sick, wander too close to an open door at night, and it lashes out with those huge hands and pulls you inside.

Zackula: "HAW HAW HAW GET ME ANOTHER PEANUT BUTTER BANANA SANDWICH!"

Zackula: Tiny feeding tubes ould allow it to take a bloodmeal from you each day as you slowly wither and die inside it. And when it's done with your carcass it will expell your bones like a Mortal Kombat fatality. A hundred
bouncing femurs.

Zackula: It will be empty and hungry and ready for next Halloween.

Dr. Thorpenstein: Maybe it's more of a parasitic thing, like you take a vacation to Indonesia and accidentally swallow some pond water, and the little tadpole version of this thing grows inside you, takes over your face, and slowly, painfully, untreatably over the course of years and years, you grow this hideous fleshy keloid mass of gruesome lounge singer flesh over your face and hands.

Dr. Thorpenstein: Also, you just happened to be wearing that sparkly silver costume with puffy cuffs anyway; you are a homo.


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About This Column

Fashion SWAT... the fashion industry is obsessed with impracticality. We know that what designers create was never meant to be worn by the grimy masses, but that doesn't somehow diminish how ridiculous many of these costumes are. Make no mistake, they are costumes, and like a Halloween prize pageant we will turn our discerning gaze on the grievous fashion misfires of Paris, Milan, and New York. We're not pulling any punches, and we're definitely not interested in making any friends. We're Joan Rivers without Melissa Rivers to temper our screeching. We're the Fashion Police in jack boots. We are Fashion SWAT.

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