Jack-o-Lanterns line the wall. A spider patiently waits on the ceiling.
I squash between a drunk vampire and a tall viking woman to get to the bar. A lively zombie is operating the taps. One of the Ghostbusters is waiting for his drink. Alex and his droogs are collecting empty glasses. A mummy is shouting into his mobile, wrappings dirty with ooze picked up somewhere.
No angels are out tonight - the best is a lone butterfly with droopy wings and an empty pint glass. The Catwoman is there, along with someone with a whip. A little red devil is flirting with the man with a big sword. A skeleton is playing guitar.
Two more zombies are making out in a corner. Apparently being undead doesn't dampen certain basic needs. At least they're not infecting the living.
I'm the academic who preys on his students.
Alex and his zombie.