the Haunted House of Torment (Part II)

I found myself standing in front of the Haunted House of Torment, a gray faced killer at my heels, wielding a chainsaw, realizing just how serious the actors inside would be. I could smell the gasoline of the motor, for heaven's sakes.
I had never ventured inside of a place designed to scare people and like most people, don't prefer to be scared/uncomfortable/surprised.

My brain reasoned with me like one would with small child:
'It will only be actors in masks and makeup. They will jump and scream and try to scare you but they aren't real.'
My neurosis/tendency towards irrational emotions knew better.
'This is going to be horrible. One scare and your heart will jump out of your chest and beat in circles until it dies at your feet!"

It didn't matter. I had to go in. Honestly, those fifteen minutes were absolutely terrible. But in hindsight, I wondered: When is it ever okay to scream yourself hoarse for fifteen minutes straight without people running to your aid or asking you to shut up?

Once outside, exhilarated and a bit raspy, I had to admit that screaming the whole time had to be the most amazingly fun thing ever.

I must say my performance in the haunted house probably made me into a loathsome character.One step into the dark foyer and I was already crying out, seeing shadows jumping from the corners. As the line wound into each room, my mouth was open, a half laugh half cry pouring out. I was louder than everyone, even the actors and I started to sense their annoyance. With each "There! Something's going to pop out from there!", I went about completely ruining each ugly surprise, rendering every guttural moan anti-climatic, a waste of breath.

Huh. All in a day's work.