The Edgefest Experience

By Jeremy B. Richards

Edgefest by definition is stupid. But, in Madison, one must admit that it's better than most of the other things around town to do. This year, though, more than ever, Edgefest seemed to just teem with idiots galore. My evidence follows.

Firstly, at Edgefest it has become tradition for me to get dressed up in the finest offerings of the "Village Market," as the clothes tent is officially called. So, Friday night, I'm decked out in some pink bell bottoms, and several layers of clashing paisley shirts and bathrobes. The enjoyment of being a fashion rebel wore off in about twenty seconds, however, so a group of us decided to waste time daring the gut-wrenching rides along one side of the track.

Anyway, we were going to go to the Haunted House, the scariest ride by far.

To fully experience the effects of the Haunted House, we decided to get as many people as possible going through it as we could. I was walking by some drunk Edgewoodians, who seemed to be enjoying my clothes a little too much. They seemed like perfect candidates for our Haunted House excursion.

"Listen bitch, I'm sick of your shit!" I said to one of the giggling, pointing stoners, always a good conversation starter. They stopped laughing and tried to stand up.

"Whaaaat?" came the surprised reply. I switched the subject, something always fun to do with stoned and drunk people.

"You guys want to go to the Haunted House with us?" I asked in a happy voice.

One of them snorted and giggled, "What's a Horny House?"

"No kids, the Haunted House."

"Oh, well if you can gank me some titties I'll go. I'd rather go to a Horny House."

Yeah. Smooth.

So we went in the Haunted House. It was terrible. Sonic wails, slanted floors, darkness. Hell on Earth. There was even a bucket of blood. I felt so bad that I had to report this psychologically damaging ride to someone important. We found a police officer.

"Officer," I began, with a shaking voice, "there's something terrible back there – on one of the rides."

"What?" he said, reaching for his walkie-talkie.

"In ... in the Haunted House ... there... there was a DISMEMBERED HEAD!!!"

"Where?" He had his walkie-talkie out and looked ready for action.

Yeah. We left him like that. The scary thing is that he was a Madison Police Officer, not some idiot security guard.

The only other cool thing that happened that relates to really stoopid people is that a bunch of us managed to convince some guy working the P.A. system to page Craven Moorehead. It was pretty darn exciting.