Zombie Mountain

1. Buy a large amount of various cheeses. Make sure that you have not heard of at least six of them.

2. Sculpt mountain out of these cheeses (use Cheez Whiz as adhesive).

3. Hollow out inside.

4. Cut out eyeholes.

5. Leave in yard until use on Halloween.

Flammable San Francisco

1. Take an aerial photograph of San Francisco. (Note: Due to the size of San Francisco, you may have to take several pictures and painstakingly match them up to create the full city.)

2. Figure out a suitable scale size for all buildings, roads, parks, cars, men, parking meters, women, trees, benches, puddles and sidewalk cracks.

3. Buy toothpicks and glue stick.

4. Build city using materials purchased in step 3.

5. Attach city to giant apparatus that you will be able to wear.

6. Buy lighter and gasoline.

7. At party, when asked what you are, answer by yelling, “Flammable San Francisco!” and then use materials purchased in step 6 to demonstrate your flammability.

8. Build one Flammable San Francisco costume for every person you feel will ask you what you are supposed to be. Use graphing calculators and standard deviation formulas to do this (show work on loose-leaf paper).

9. After estimating this number, contact Ryder and reserve truck for storage/transportation of costumes next October 31st.

Beard Pants

1. Begin growing beard. (Note: If you’re a woman, begin taking male hormone pills now and make this a “Halloween After The Next Halloween” project.)

2. Stretch beard daily using an angry dog’s mouth.

3. Lose friends and loved ones as they begin to abandon you and your new “friend.” Accuse them of caring only about appearances, even though in reality you know you’ve changed on the inside too. You know that you’re a different person and that you’ll never be the same. Weep into beard. Try to force back tears but then just give up and let them pour out. Ring out beard later. (Note: Do not drink beard juice — unless you want to be a creep, in which case, be my guest, weirdo.)

4. Lovingly craft a pair of pants out of beard while keeping it attached to your face (do not forget those little rivet things near the pockets and stuff).

5. On the big night, remember to travel to party through back roads and alleys to avoid being arrested by police officers. (Note: Abandon Beard Pants costume at any time if hairy pants become a popular trend.)

Drunkest Person Ever

1. Start now.

2. Chug!

3. Don’t be a wimp, wimp.

4. Repeat steps 2 and 3 until Halloween or your death, whichever comes first. (Note: If it’s the latter, instead of Drunkest Person Ever, your costume is now Worm Town.)

As men, and sometimes even women, know, cereal is an integral part of life on this mild and temperate planet we call Earth. Cereal governs the most basic of all human interactions, and, well, even if it doesn’t, it should is my point. Basically, what I’m saying here is that cereal is really, really good. It’s really good to eat cereal and milk from a bowl. Much better than eating a bowl full of just milk, certainly, and almost infinitely better than eating a bowl unfull of cereal. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Does everyone really love cereal as much as us? Well, of course they do. Here look, I even did a little slapdash research on the Internet to see how people eat cereal everywhere else in the world and look what I found:

Chile

In Chile, cereal is always eaten in a room with at least one dozen piñatas hanging from the ceiling. A mariachi band is most always present, but if all area mariachi bands are already booked, then listening to a Gloria Estefan record will suffice. Never ever listen to the Green Jelly album Cereal Killer. Also, instead of a spoon, use a maraca.

Transylvania

While biting the neck of a young, attractive woman, pour the desired crunchy cereal bits over her neck, mixing the flowing blood with the cereal to create a tangy, crispy treat. Note: Be mindful of the HIV.

Southern California

Instead of a bowl, place cereal inside of a pita. Substitute sprouts and avocado for milk. Surf while eating as necessary. Also, between bites, elect a crappy governor.

Arabia

Rub your breakfast lamp to summon the cereal genie. For your first wish, ask for a bowl of cereal. For your second wish, ask for a quart of milk. For your third wish, ask for a thousand and one spoons, one for each member of your harem. Sit back as they feed you, anoint you with oils, and fan you with peacock feathers — all while belly-dancing.

Greenland

I can’t think of a racial-stereotype joke for this country.

Egypt

Q. Why don’t Egyptians pour milk on their cereal?

A. They don’t need to — their mummies do it for them.

Chechnya

This is just like America, except instead of pouring the cereal into the bowl and then adding the milk, you do not eat at all, for this country is ravaged by war and is very poor.

The Fifth Dimension

As you float, simply use the giant glowing polygon to magnetically attach the cereal to the gaping mouth now located on your right shoulder. Remember to do this to the beat of the propulsive dance music streaming from all directions.

The Magnificent Eight sat at the Table of Destiny in the Mountain of Power, drinking Terrific Tea and playing Colossal Solitaire, when the Door of Arrivals opened.

“Oh no,” muttered the Golden Octopus. “Everybody!” he whispered, “Don’t look up! He’s here!”

“I knew it!” cried the Historic Waffle as he raised a syrup-covered limb to conceal the side of his face closest to the Door of Arrivals.

Just then a figure emerged from the Door of Arrivals. “Hey hey! It took me a while to get in because I think you guys accidentally gave me the wrong key.” It was Holocaust Boy, dressed in his trademark skintight black body suit with the words “THE HOLOCAUST IS HERE TO HELP!” ironed onto the back in yellow letters. His lack of a cape made him look like a ninja scuba diver, and the Ultimate Dictionary once called Holocaust Boy’s appearance “the definition of stupid.”

Holocaust Boy walked jovially over to the Table of Destiny, moved Secret Woman’s purse off of a chair and sat down. “What’s up?”

“Oh…uh…not much…you know…just…um…doin’ stuff,” mumbled Clarinet Jr. as he cleaned his reed bullets.

Suddenly, as everyone started awkwardly making excuses for leaving, the Crime Phone rang. The Answer answered. After listening to the shouting voice on the other end of the phone with wide, frightened eyes, he addressed all of the superheroes assembled. “Oh geez! The old synagogue is burning down! Someone has to go save the worshippers!”

“I’ll handle this!” exclaimed Holocaust Boy as he rushed towards the door. But the Velcro Building grabbed him by the shoulder. “Uh… I think you better not do this one.”

“Uh…why not?” Holocaust Boy looked around the room, waiting for an answer.

“Because…” started the Golden Octopus, chewing on a tentacle, trying to conjure the strength to tell Holocaust Boy, once and for all, what the problem was. “Because you are…uh…”

Just then, Holocaust Boy was shot from behind by a small Mexican man with a handlebar mustache. The man casually leaned on the Vending Machine of Convenience and admired his own accuracy.

Clarinet Jr. spoke first, letting out a sigh of relief. “Whew! Thanks Awkward Man!”

“I’m sure his death won’t be remembered as the Tragedy of the Century!” quipped the Historic Waffle as they all laughed the hearty laugh of justice.