Built a few haunted houses way back when we owned a costume shop. Set at least two of them up in my parent's back yard, my father horrified, my mother delighted. Our first one was above a local bar and was quite well attended. Someone kept sending up drinks which made things interesting. My job was to writhe beneath a giant furry spider in a vain attempt at escape. Toward the end of the evening the white Russians took over and from afar came a voice calling my name and urging me to writhe, wiggle, just move... I struggled from the arms of Morpheus and managed some random movements, no more white Russians for me.