The Cecilnomicon: Ultimate Date Night

With the arrival of the street sweeping trucks this week, the final ritual is complete and Spring is in the air in Salem, thick and polleny. I can’t help it, I’m a romantic - as I admire city streets that are slightly cleaner, if significantly streakier, than they were the day before, my thoughts can’t help but turn to love.

As you may know from a close reading of the police blotter, I am dating a wonderful woman named Margery. I remember the first time we met as if it were yesterday. Margery, being a time traveler, often literally does as well. I remember the loud bang when her time machine, cunningly disguised as a Dodge Stratus, crashed into the telephone pole outside my house. I remember the look of hope in her eyes, her brown hair tussled beneath her Victorian top hat with gears glued to it (this is how I knew she was a time traveler). I escorted her to the basement in order to conceal her from the evil Time Bobbies, hot on her trail. So beautiful. I felt like I was in dreamland even as I explained to the officer that no, I had not seen the driver of the crashed Stratus at all and is that really a Dodge Stratus wink wink?

Since that day, Margery has never left my side. Well, from her perspective anyways. From my perspective, she’s gone a lot. You see, a side-effect of frequent time travel is Chronoslipopia, a temporal condition that causes the afflicted to periodically go missing in time and space, often taking small objects like wallets, DVD players, and family heirlooms with them. Margery always makes it back to me, though, sometimes weeks later with a new wardrobe or other goodies obtained on her latest time traveling adventure. I hope someday my mother’s wedding ring makes it back too. That’s how strongly I feel.

So you can imagine my delight when a few days ago a time slip opened up and my Margery came back to me. It looked like her most recent episode was a bad one - when I got back from negotiating a peace treaty between the squirrels of the Salem Common and Gallows Hill, I found her laying, drained of temporal energy, on my couch. The temporal storm had to have been a bad one - it broke a window in my kitchen, disappeared a bottle of medicinal brandy, and cleared out all the silverware I inherited from Auntie Hildegard. Still, I knew what to do - five large pizzas from Mandee’s, a bottle of aspirin, and two days uninterrupted sleep in a dark room and she’d be right as rain again.

And while my beloved sleeps, I prepare! Judging by the rattling bass timbre of her gentle snoring, I still have a few more hours plan our Ultimate Date Night.

Everyone's idea of a good time is different, but that's just because they have not seen the light. Here are some illuminating tips to ensure that your Date Night is as Ultimate as ours will be:

Start Each Date with an Aperitif

While most folks would pick a mixed cocktail or something from one of Salem’s many mixological establishments, I prefer to start our dates out with a shot of positive energy. Gifting orgonite to an area of negative etheric energy is a great conversation starter, plus you help rid the skies of chemtrails that might otherwise ruin a romantic sunset. Pick your gifting location carefully - if she’s dressed up, you might want to avoid dumping your lump of sacred orgonite into a bog or deep in the Forbidden Woods. Try instead the power array along the South River’s Harborwalk. It’s a nice walk, plus you can meet some of the city’s more interesting residents. They may have tips as to exclusive goings on around town that night. Crouch low and listen to their furtive whispers.

Still, an Opening Drink is not a Bad Idea

Mother Earth sated, you might have developed a thirst. Quench it! I know I get really, really thirsty after finishing the forty-five minute long gifting ceremony, so a cool margarita from Howling Wolf really hits the spot. I’m a rocks and salt guy myself, but your date might, like mine, might enjoy one of the newer styles of ‘rita. Margery is particularly partial to the frozen variety with burrito shooter.

Stuck in a Rut? Roleplay!

If you’ve been with your beloved for awhile, you might be worried that the spark is gone from your relationship, replaced by a slow burn of desperation and regret. Smother that flame with roleplay! You and your date can pretend to be anything you want - super spy, lonely housewife, or bloodthirsty orc barbarian. I usually pick all three. It only takes a few minutes in the washroom to get the housedress on over the tuxedo and applying the battle-woad of Grarganash the Defilerer is really easy. When you return from the washroom, howl a cry of rage and longing before ordering a martini, shaken not stirred. Your date (and the rest of the bar) will be intrigued.

Live Music is Fun, Free, and Intimate

There is a great spot to listen to live music outdoors in Salem. It’s on the other side of the brick wall across from the Lobster Shanty. From there, you’re like ten feet from the band and the parking lot acoustics are surprisingly adequate. I’m sure the band sounds better from the Shanty’s patio, but I’m not allowed there any more. There was a, uh, misunderstanding involving the lobster tank and an ersatz altar someone made to Guy Fieri as Lord Neptune. So now when I walk by Artist’s Row, Shanty staff tend to get ruder, crankier, or surlier based on their job title.

Let Loose and Dance

You’re out to have fun with your date, so who cares what other people think? You may feel that you can’t dance, but I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong. You totally can dance and it will be totally impressive and will make for a night to remember. Forget your two left feet and the cursed genetics that made you that way, clear your head, and let the music fill you. It’s easy. Take two swigs of sugared rum, sacrifice the dancing chicken, and let the loa Funkenhotep take over your body. A word of warning, though, Funkenhotep cares little for other people’s property. A bag or two of Warding Salt would be nice to have on hand.

Avoid Ghosts

Nothing sucks the fun out of a date like dealing with the restless dead. It’s really a no win proposition. Either you end up cursed, constantly seeing black tendrils of blackest night curling from your eyes in your reflection, or you waste your night trying to avenge a wrongful death by combating an evil wizard or cult or something. So take it from me - if you see protoplasm, just shout “NOPE,” turn around, and walk away quickly.

Know a Quiet Spot

At some point in the evening, you and your date will want to be alone. In my experience, this is usually because it turns out that one of the credit cards Margery located in an alternate reality corresponds to a real credit card in this dimension whose owner just happened to report stolen. So knowing a good place for just the two of you is usually a good idea. Besides, as you wait crouched, noses filled with the scent of trash, while the police search the area around the dumpster you’re hiding in, you’ll be as close as you’ll ever be. Be sure the cops are gone before you give in to your urges and head home!

Plan Your Return

After a grand night out, you’ll want to keep the momentum going when you get home. Plan ahead on how you will set the mood upon your return. I queue up Hawkwind’s Warrior on the Edge of Time on the stereo. It’s a great song and really sets the mood. It might not be for you, though, so feel free to pick anything else from Hawkwind’s extensive catalog. The tracks from the Lemmy era are particularly tender and romantic. Make sure you have cleaned the house and have candles at the ready so you can set the mood in case she wants to perform a seance to contact her dead mother. I know I said to Avoid Ghosts above, but, fellas, you need to understand that if you want to seal the deal, you sometimes just have to throw the rulebook out the window, grab the spellbook, and follow her lead.

You can thank me in the morning.

My body thrums with etheric energy just thinking about it! Wake up, my beloved, wake up soon so we can paint the town ochre!