Last night I had a Halloween nightmare from Hell. I dreamt that Satan had set up a gigantic haunted house in which all Americans were invited to enter—just for the hell of it. More than half of the country was lining up to check out the exhibit, and most of the people in line were psyched with a Rocky Horror Picture Show “anti-ci-PA-tion.” Each room of the house was said to feature extremely scary scenes of our democracy in peril, and if you managed to make it to the end without a shred of your integrity and soul left, you were rewarded with a red baseball cap that bore the initials: CYJFD (“Congratulations, you just fucked democracy”).
I suspected this haunted house was going to be a real doozy, but I just had to see what had turned so many of my friends and neighbors into the walking dead. However, I wanted to survive and not lose my heart and brain. I needed a costume, though. Something invincible. What to do? Who should I masquerade as? After much thought, I went back home, grabbed a blond wig, some pearls, a pair of glasses, some comfortable shoes and a badge that read, “Liz Cheney, Jan. 6 demon killer.”
I had no idea that that haunted house would almost prove to be my undoing.
As I approached the door, a couple of Satan’s helpers collected tickets (one dressed as the Big Lie and the other dressed as Hershel Walker). I cringed a little as they snarled at me, but whispered to myself, “be still my heart,” and pushed on through the doorway, praying that my courage would see me through.
The first room on my left was labeled, THE ELECTION DENIERS, and as I peeked into the darkness, I couldn’t see much, but I could distinctly hear two ghostly voices that sounded like the Grady sisters from The Shining seductively whisper a version of The Shining tagline: “Hello, Americans, come and play with us…forever, and ever, and ever.”
Oh shit, I thought. I know what this means. I had read enough Stephen King to know my ass would be grass if I stepped into that room. I resisted the siren call and scurried on down the hall to the next room.
The room on the right side of the dark, crowded hallway featured a broken-down version of the Capitol. Windows were busted out, excrement was smeared all over the walls, a Confederate flag was perched on the dome, and hundreds of its inhabitants were staggering about while shouting incoherently as Marjorie Taylor Greene led her fellow legislators in a political version of The Monster Mash by Bobby Pickett:
Hey America:
I was working in the House of Reps, one night
When my eyes beheld an eerie sight
My Monster of Lies from his slab, began to rise
And suddenly to my surprise
He did the congressional take-over monster mash
(The monster mash) It was a political smash
(He did the mash) It caught on in a flash
(He did the mash) He did the Big Lie mash
From my laboratory in the Capitol east
To the chambers where the congressional vampires feast
The Republican ghouls all came from their self-righteous abodes
To get a jolt from my electrodes
To do the lyin’ monster mash
The Christian Nationalist zombies were having fun
The death-to-democracy party had just begun
The guests included Alex Jones, Trump and his sons
The scene was rockin’, all were digging the sounds
Tucker Carlson on chains, backed up by Fox’s baying hounds
The democracy killers were about to arrive
With their vocal group, ‘The Truth-Killer Five’
They played the monster mash
Out from his coffin, Dracula McConnell’s voice did ring
Seems he was troubled by just one thing
He opened the lid and shook his fist and said
“Whatever happened to that Constitution Twist?
Oh, Marjorie G replied:
It’s now the monster Big Lie Mash
And it’s a graveyard smash
It’s caught on in a flash
It’s now the monster mash
“Oy vey iz mir,” I screamed, “America, we truly are undone!” I fled down the hall to try and find an exit, but the place was so crowded with Americans who were rapidly turning into brain-dead zombies that I could barely move. I was petrified! All around me were Americans who had sold their souls, and they were seeking live human flesh to eat. I could be turned into a zombie at any minute if I continued to linger in America’s Haunted House.
I zigged—I zagged, and I ducked into a room that looked like it might be a safe haven. Over the door frame was a sign which said: CHRISTIAN NATIONALISTS—WE ARE THE TRUTH AND THE LIGHT—ONLY WE CAN SAVE AMERICA. Whew, I thought. I am safe! These are my Evangelical peeps. I’ve been a Born-Again Christian for 50 years! They must follow Jesus’ creed of love, truth, and mercy. They’ll save me. They’ll save America! They’ll destroy Satan’s haunted house and set us free from our madness.
However, as soon as I entered the room, I knew I was grossly mistaken.
The room was the most unwelcoming place I’d ever been in. It was freezing cold—some 40 degrees below zero. The room was a stark bedroom, and in the middle of it there were a bed and a teenager impersonating the 12-year-old actress Linda Blair who played Regan MacNeil in the 1973 film The Exorcist. On one hand she looked like an angelic, beautiful child, but on the other hand, she looked completely demon possessed. A recording of her voice began to play on a loop: I am a Christian Right-Wing Nationalist and I worship God and his right-hand son, Donald Trump. Bow down to my Christian Sharia laws. Worship who I tell you to worship, think what I tell you to think, love only who I tell you to love, hate who I tell you to hate, surrender all choice over your body, and pledge allegiance to only our MAGA leadership. If you submit to me, all will be well with your soul.
At that moment, just like in the Exorcist, the girl’s recreation of Regan levitated several feet off of her bed, and her head turned 360 degrees while she spewed what looked like pea soup which recreated the infamous vomit scene from the movie. Many in the room bowed down, others fainted, a couple had heart attacks, and I projectile vomited as I fled the room looking for the exit and some modicum of hope. In my inner ear, I could hear the words of the Exorcist’s, Father Merrin trying to sooth me: “I think the point is to make us despair. To see ourselves as… animal and ugly. To make us reject the possibility that God could love us.”
I woke up—completely undone—singing disjointed lyrics from the Animals’ song, “We’ve Got to Get Out of This Place,” as if they were lyrical rosary beads. It was the same song used in my favorite Halloween movie (Rocky Horror Picture Show). Remembering that fact, I got myself a strong glass of whiskey with some cinnamon toast, pulled up the movie on my TV, threw toast and toilet paper at the screen (it’s a 70s thing—you had to have been there), started to dance the “Time Warp,” and belted out “We’ve Got to Get Out of This Place,” as if my very life and future depended on it.
In this dirty old part of the city
Where the sun refused to shine
People tell me, there ain’t no use in tryin’…
We gotta get out of this place
If it’s the last thing we ever do
We gotta get out of this place
‘Cause girl, there’s a better life for me and you
Eleanor Tomczyk is an author and a satirist who is an award-winning voice-over performer. In 2011, she created the blog, “How the Hell Did I End Up Here” which features mostly satirical posts that have thousands of readers around the world—although she was recently banned in Pakistan (for real!). Tomczyk’s three books were featured in a recent book festival: “Monsters’ Throwdown,” “Fleeing Oz,” and “The Fetus Chronicles—Podcasts to my Miseducated Self.” Currently in her 70s and living life like it is freakin’ golden, she is a consummate storyteller and much sought-after motivational speaker. If you don’t believe me, just ask her!
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how the hell did i end up here? 