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Paul Ryan's very own haunted house ...................Paul Ryan
Let's face it: there's nothing scary about a bunch of people in costumes jumping out at you or pretending to grab at you while you're walking. The only thing scary is the fact that the haunted houses are often staffed almost entirely by 17-year-old perverted losers looking to grab women's boobies. While it is indeed comical to see a boyfriend's reaction when a troll starts copping a feel on his girlfriend, it's still not what I'd call scary. I was thinking about this the other day, and decided if a troll, witch, or goblin ever tried to grab my boob, my first reaction would be to kick them square in the nuts. It was this thought that became the whole basis for my perfect haunted house. In order to make a haunted house scary, I'd have to throw physical harm into the equation, specifically the type of harm created when one person's foot flies into another person's crotch. If you could choose between a regular haunted house and one where you were allowed to kick the monsters in the pelvis hard enough to stifle their child-bearing, which would you choose? I think we'd all choose the haunted house where we get to kick people in the groin, because a good old-fashioned groin kickin' is always a worthwhile activity. Guys can impress their girlfriends with mad groin kickin' skills. Ladies can practice self-defense techniques by repeatedly kicking random strangers in the crotch with high heels. Families can teach their kids the finer points of fighting dirty. Grandparents can continue to use the haunted house for the same thing they've always used haunted houses for: an excuse to pee their pants and blame it on somebody else. But the fun doesn't end when the wee hours of the morning come around. After the bars close, my haunted house will become a gigantic BYOB drunkfest and crotch kicking free-for-all. Everyone will run around drunk, kicking other people in the groin. Six out of ten Catholic nuns agree: it'll be like purgatory with booze. A friend of mine warned me that it may be difficult to find people to staff such a haunted house. To remedy this, I plan to mainly hire unsuspecting senior citizens who can't read the small type on their employment contract. I'll also hire criminals in need of community service hours. But don't worry, I'll make sure to only hire "friendly" criminals. Like many of the other haunted houses run nowadays, mine will be for a worthy cause. When customers pay admission, they can rest assured that their money will go directly to the Paul C. Ryan Hydration Fund, a charity that supports my drinking habit. Customers who would like to contribute extra to the Paul C. Ryan Hydration Fund can purchase t-shirts that say, "I Kicked a Monster in the Dirty Fun Zone*, and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt". That is, if the pickpockets and violent muggers I hire as community service workers don't steal your wallet in a "friendly" manner before you leave.
*If you get one thing out of this column, I sincerely hope it is the phrase "dirty fun zone" as a synonym for "groin".
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If there's one thing this world needs, it's a haunted house run by me, Paul Ryan. Every year there's ads on TV for lame, sissy haunted houses that might scare your grandma if she doesn't fall asleep first. These haunted houses have one main thing in common: they suck a big fat hairy ass.
