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Vice Blog

NEW YORK - FEAR (OL)FACTORY 2: THE TOWEL OF TERROR

The sun had set on All Hallows Eve.

As promised

, my hand reached deep into the miasmal depths of the freezer, emerging with one bottle of drowned victim scent. I unscrewed the cap and removed the tamper-proof seal and cotton stuffing to reveal a white powder smelling so dreadful that it made my nose hairs stand on end. I quickly closed the bottle. I realized the only safe way to apply it would be to dust it onto a towel so if I was overwhelmed I could throw it away. My friend Sam did the same with his heroin scent, and we were off to terrorize the unsuspecting mice, bumble bees, and Heath Ledgers of New York City.

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Here's what the scents looked like.

We got into a little heroin smell fight before going out.

I had to quickly drop an absentee ballot in the mail before getting on the train (yes on weed/yes on dog racing).

Sam felt really anxious on the train because he

reeked

of heroin. Luckily there were cops everywhere.

Around 8th avenue my costume’s novelty wore off and I started to feel queasy, though I was turning a lot of heads.

Smelling like a corpse, I needed to find a non-judgmental place that embraced alternative forms of spirituality, so I went to Alex Grey’s

Chapel of Sacred Mirrors

. After five minutes I was whipped in the face by a glow stick and had to take a handful of Xanax to avoid having a panic attack. Then I decided to curl up in the fetal position under this incredible painting of an exploding vagina chakra.

After that I threw in the towel and took a bath, thus concluding the smelliest Halloween of my life.

HAMILTON MORRIS