She Can't Play Dead

Every workday, one of my best friends, who I call Kitten, texts me in the morning to see how things are. However, this morning, when she asked me what I was up to, I told her I was remembering that Halloween. Her return text was filled with laughing-crying emojis along with the message: “OMG lol, that was hilarious! My dreams of being a corpse on a cop show died that day.”

Kitten and I are best friends today because of a mutual friend: my childhood best friend, Crystal.

Crystal and I met when we were seven, and we became instant best friends. Throughout our childhood, we would spend numerous weekends and summers together. While our bond has changed significantly over the years, she remains one of my favorite people. It was primarily due to her that my childhood was so wonderful, and I can dwell on happy memories. She and I have always loved storytelling, and, as an adult, I realize this was highly prevalent in the games we played, in the intricate storylines for our toys we came up with, and how invested we were in making these fictions come alive. While many of our games had original content, most of our favorite stories often revolved around fanfiction.

The story I am about to tell you is extremely cliché and corny, even to me.

In the late 90’s/early ’00s, the three of us were obsessed with Buffy The Vampire Slayer. On one Halloween night, Kitten and I stayed the night at Crystal’s house. We created potions with punch and posed for Halloween pictures for Crystal’s mom, who, to this day, tends to be a photographer extraordinaire. I still laugh at these pictures and reminiscence about this memory; three best friends dressed in medieval gowns and dark makeup. However, if Hot Topic starts selling their medieval gowns again, I might be switching up my wardrobe. The picture I posted for this writing piece is just snapshots from that fun night.

As the night progressed and the parents went to sleep, we began discussing what we wanted to do with the night. After all, we were three teenagers hyped up on soda and junk food. For many sleepovers, Crystal and I would roleplay our characters well into the night. Some of the roleplays were brilliant, fueling new character and story development for our writings. Others were memorable because of how funny they were to us. This Halloween was the first time that Kitten would get to indulge in our slumber party tradition.

Over the course of the next few hours, the three of us put on a production of the lives of our Buffy characters. It was rather extensive for a traditional night of roleplaying. Still, it allowed us to learn about each other’s characters, figure out what worked and didn’t work for their storyline, and create new canons. During one scene, Kitten’s character was supposed to be dead, and our characters were at her funeral, mourning her passing. This scene continued far longer than anticipated because the corpse kept erupting into a fit of giggles. Crystal and I laughed, chiding Kitten.

“You’re supposed to be dead, Kitten,” one of us chided. Kitten burst into laughter.

“I can’t help it. You know I can’t be serious,” she giggled.

I don’t remember how we were able to play out the rest of the scene, but we managed accompanied with belly-aching laughter. It was a simple moment, but it sealed itself as a priceless memory and added to the foundation the three of us have shared all these years. But Kitten has never thought to pursue an acting career.