39269" style="letter-spacing: normal; color: rgb(85, 85, 85); font-size: 13px; line-height: 21px; ">Carroll Gardens.
Probably not the words you’d expect to follow this photo. Allow me to stitch together the pieces (in the same delicate manner it looks like this womans chest has been sewn).
Halloween night on a posh elm-lined street in Brooklyn. Its 6pm but already dark and ripe for a frightening and soul-chilling adventure through an affluent neighborhood in the preferred school district. As we dodge the lilliputian Lady Gagas and Captain Jack Sparrows, strollers whiz through as though driven by Ryan Gosling. We come upon a(nother) brownstone with a large barrel in front. On the front of the barrel there’s a note instructing the passer-by to “clap loudly.” We obey. What followed could only have come from the mind of a blood-thirsty serial killer who spent years trapped in an abandoned mausoleum watching horror movies to perfect the craft of terror. Or from a bored trophy wife. Either way, what resulted was an over caffeinated zombie wrapped up in dirty blood-soaked gauze who LEAPT out from the barrel and lunged at us. Screaming in a pitch that rivaled our own.
Still, not as scary at the photo above. Seriously, WTF is going on with her face?