Lemme give you some advice: never go to a Halloween party dressed as the fat half-naked zombie guy from Doom III. It’s almost impossible to get your freak on.

I mean, let’s face it: Halloween is a time for making out. Our pagan forefathers created the holiday with “naughty nurse” outfits in mind. When I went to Jenn’s Halloween party, I was ready for some serious undead undulating, if you no what I mean.

But nobody -- NOBODY -- wants to get it on with the fat undead guy from DOOM. What’s the dealio?

In one corner I saw Sophitia from Soul Calibur making out with Dante from Devil May Cry. Right after the apple bobbing I nearly tripped over Solid Snake getting down with Pai from Virtua Fighter 4. Even Krystal from the Star Fox game was getting fresh with the Grand Theft Auto guy, and hell, she’s like ... a purple dog or something.

But then, from across the crowded room, standing next to a dry-ice cauldron of floating eyeballs, I saw her. Helga Von Bulow, the evil fat Nazi woman from Castle Wolfenstein. Her hair was so tightly woven into the bun it made the veins in her forehead pop out alluringly.

I sidled up to her, my big fake fat blood-spattered gut jostling as I moved my legs. “Hey baby,” I said. “We’re both from Quake-engine games. You’re a Nazi and I’m undead -- it’s practically the same thing. Let’s get it on.”

Together, silhouetted before the harvest moon, we walked out into the pumpkin patch together arm-in-arm.