A long time ago I worked at a haunted house.  It was one of my favorite jobs ever.  A point of pride I had for myself at this job was that letting my (at the time) shoulder-blade-length hair down in my face, dawning a flannel button-down shirt, scraping three fake-blood scratch marks on my face and wielding a fake butcher knife was all I needed to do to make myself the scariest person there.  The rest was just acting as psychotic as possible.

During my last night working there, the knife I used went missing.  So I grabbed a wooden cooking spoon instead.  At one point, I boarded the wagon and went after an early twenties woman, who tried to hide from me under the seat of the wagon.  At which point, I got down in her face, brandished my ‘weapon’ and shouted, “I’M GOING TO SPOON YOU AND YOU’RE NOT GOING TO ENJOY IT!!!”