Right Outta My Mouth

By Roberto Scarlato

Ever get laid off while wearing a costume? Forced to get over a fear in less than 10 hours? Hey, we've all been there, right? These are just a few of the weird woes that writer and blogger Roberto Scarlato has to face. A collection of six humorous essays of true events that happened in his life. It tackles subjects like Apartment Hunting, Traveling, Acting, Halloween Contests, and Scammers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roberto Scarlato
• Release date: Jul 7, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386562474

Roberto Scarlato

Roberto Scarlato is an author, blogger and audiobook narrator. He writes speculative fiction, mystery, suspense, thriller, romance, horror and crime. Scarlato grew up in a small suburb of Chicago, where his love of a good story was cultivated by shows like “Alfred Hitchcock Presents” and “The Twilight Zone.” A bibliomaniac from the moment he learned to read, he began weaving together his own tales at an early age.  In November 2014, Scarlato quit his day job. He now writes and narrates full time. He married his high school sweetheart in 2010 and they have a daughter.

Book preview

Dear Reader,

The following stories contained in this volume are true. Some names have been changed to protect certain people, but, for the most part, these things actually happened. I’ve never understood why such weird things happen to me. But, looking back, I’m glad they did because as a storyteller, I’m able to include you in my crazy life. Here’s to life and the many punchlines that follow.

Ghostbusted

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Putting on the suit was a bit of a process. I awoke on a dull, new Friday morning, prepared to get the last laugh in a costume contest. The prize? A one hundred dollar gas card. Was it worth the time, the effort of putting a costume together? To me it was.

The costume itself I picked up at a local Spirit Halloween shop. I tried it on and, granted, it was a little tight around the crotch area, but I wouldn’t let that slow me down. Hell, the larger version, I think designed for Fat Albert, was way too baggy and cost an outrageous fifteen dollars more.

I had some steel-toed boots that fit the bill. Along with a pair of elbow pads that I snagged from Wal-Mart and my back brace; the costume was complete.

It was 5:30 in the morning when I got the elbow pads on and poured myself some coffee. My wife got up around this time and shuffled into the hall. Turning on the bathroom light, with squinty eyes, she stared at a Ghostbuster sipping coffee in our living room.

Hi, hon. I said with a smile.

She did a sleepy snort and said, Have fun.

As a husband, I’ve come to learn many things. One being that no matter how eccentric the husband is, the wife will follow, reluctantly, rolling her eyes of course, but she’ll still follow, if not to make sure her husband doesn’t make a complete fool of himself.

For me, though, Halloween was not only a celebration of madness, the macabre or the gothic. It was my own private Fool day.

I can’t recall ever dressing up as something scary.

My costumes were more in respect, or honor of the fictional character I portrayed for just one day. I went for accuracy.

In the past, when I was about the height of your average knee, I played to my boyhood heroes. But I made sure I played a completely different thing every year. I was a ninja turtle one year (plastic shell on my back and all) and Batman the next.

In one picture I’m standing on the sidelines as Batman with a loose fitting rubber mask, jack-o-lantern bucket held high in a strike as my brother, as Elvis, is keep me out a safe distance away from my sister who is dressed as a ballerina.

Even as characters, my sister and I were always at war. Who knew that Elvis could keep the peace between us?

In recent years, I’ve been a Gomez, a mime, Inspector Clouseau, Joker and even Jack Sparrow for a couple of Halloweens.

I’m still fuzzy on if I ever played The Riddler, though. It’s still a mystery to me.

But one thing I never got a chance to be was an honest to God Ghostbuster.

It was something I always had in the back of my mind but never acted on as if I were unworthy of such an honor. After all, that jumpsuit looked pretty official. Would I be violating some copyright? Get stopped in the street for misrepresenting the establishment?

On Friday the 29th on 2010, I drove up to my work in a small, red ford focus and prepared myself for the comments which would be hurled my way.

I dropped subtle hints the day before to some of my coworkers and only revealed to one of them what I was going to be, after much prying.

In the car, I was shaking up a storm, hoping upon hope that I wasn’t the only numbskull who decided to dress up for something like this. Normally, I woke up in the morning, slipped on my painting jeans and a work shirt and a baseball cap with a mushroom baddie from the Mario Brothers. Underneath the mushroom Goomba was a subtitle which read: GAME OVER. I considered it my lucky cap.

As the day unfolded, from the start of six in the morning, I began to feel the tiniest pit of dread in my stomach. I shook it off as I walked about the warehouse, head held high. I mean, what was the big deal? It wasn’t like I would battle actual ghosts after all, right?

*  *  *

For the first twenty minutes, it was as if I were invisible. No one would look in my general direction. If they did, they gave no clue that I was even wearing a costume. As I logged on to a computer, prepared to view a table filled with unit assembly tasks, I checked myself to make sure I was wearing the costume and that I had all the pieces together. I can be a bit OCD about things like that.

To be fair, I decided to ignore my costume as well. I carried on throughout the morning as normal.

There was an order on the screen I wasn’t familiar with so