As I write, it is the actual day of Halloween and I am at the front desk of the library with a meat cleaver embedded in my skull.
This is not a metaphor, nor is it a meataphor, and it is not an actual cleaver in my head, rather it's a costume headband that looks very plausibly like a bloody cleaver is deeply embedded into my brains.
Sometimes people look at me and laugh, or sometimes they smile and say "I forgot what day today was." Sometimes they don't react to me at all. Sometimes they make a joke, like "Wow, you must have a headache." And sometimes they say something that's probably unrelated to the cleaver, like "So I had my colonoscopy yesterday."
But one young man just looked at me and sighed.
"Oh my gosh." He said.
I regarded him sternly.
I waggled a finger.
"Be careful in the kitchen." I warned.