“do you think i look like michael jackson?” asked your best friend in the whole entire universe. it was halloween, 1983, six fifteen pm, in your average sized bedroom. you and arnie always trick or treated together around the neighborhood, then traded candy afterwards.

“i think my mom did a good job sewing up this jacket, it looks just like the music video.” he said, swiftly dusting off his shoulders, which caused you to chuckle, you were too busy concentrating on your eyeliner to answer, but you let out an “ahuh.” of agreement.

sure, the costume looked great, and he had similar curls to michael jackson, but arnie was also pale, tubby, and had big aviator specs. he accepted it, you didn’t mind him in the slightest.