Witch hat: Check.
Black trench coat: Check.
Black-and-orange thigh-high stockings: Check.
Black hair / pale skin: Check.
Crazy, whiny, screamy black dog: Check.
Crazy owner smoking and muttering to herself: Check.
Scariness factor: 8/10.
I didn’t consider how odd I looked at all until I noticed out of the corner of my eye a man standing still on the street, holding back his St. Bernard/sheepdog/some breed inferior to labs, waiting for us to be on our way. The rub is that I wasn’t in one of those chintzy costume-store dresses and full makeup. I probably looked like one of those chicks who calls herself wiccan and actually thinks she’s a witch. My dog’s yelping with excitement that she was finally going outside probably suggested I perform animal sacrifices as well.
Well, I don’t. You have to go two blocks over to the Central District for that.