By Dickless Flakeslee

This morning, President Barack Obama signed documents finalizing the long process of creating a new national holiday.  November 1st, a day previously only made notable by the size of a headache, has been forever honored with this new holiday.

“I felt, uh, that the day was already spent very much in that…capacity.”  Said President Barack Obama.  “I know this will, uh, go down as one of the biggest moments of my presidential legacy.”

It’s no accident the day falls after Halloween.  Indeed, children sift through their pillow cases of candy wrappers, wondering who broke in during the night and ate all their candy and also gave them a stomach ache.  What happened last night?

People have already spent the day this way— desperately trying to piece the last 12 hours together.  Where did things first go wrong?  Was it the first shot of Fireball that did them in?  Or maybe it was the 17th KitKat bar?  Was tequila a bad choice?  It must have been around the time that guy dressed up as a bowl of spaghetti started to look attractive.  Maybe it was the fifth shot of fireball?  Which Slutty Noun did I dance with last night?

Already droves of college students are roaming the streets, their hair disheveled, makeup smeared, wearing a half destroyed costume from the night before trying to figure out what in the fuck happened the night before.

“I woke up in a banana suit.” Said Candace Rand, a college freshman at Southern Oregon University.  Candace went on to say that she started the night as one of the Gilmore Girls.

Staples ran out of rubber bands in Medford, OR, as bars all over town have had to buy several packs, just to keep all the lost and forgotten ID’s they’d received from the night before.  Their phones ring off the hook as hungover college students try to retrace their steps and figure out what part of the night they lost their wallet.

But not everyone is involved in National Detective Day, or at least not how you’d think.  Thirty-one year old Barry Quaker can be found sitting on his front porch, a cold beverage in his hand and a smile on his face.  Barry lives on Fraternity row in Corvallis, OR—a street where 90% of the college’s fraternities preside.  For him, November 1st has always been a front row seat to a carnival.

“I like to think I’ve been observing this holiday for a long time,” Quaker said.  “It’s kind of like a dystopian alternate reality.  Have you ever seen Spongebob Squarepants do the walk of shame?”

Even parents are involved in celebrating this new holiday.  Dads can be found walking the streets, looking in bushes and opening trash cans, trying to find their child’s lost shoe, or discarded pacifier, or a half-destroyed Halloween costume because they can reuse it next year as a hand-me-down.

For a day, everyone is their own private investigator.  Rest assured, this change to the day makes it a mandatory day off for any public offices.  Giving most of the working population ample time to figure out what in the ever-living holy fucking hell happened last night.

If you have any information about a lost banana suit, please call: (541)555-8981

Dickless Flakeslee is a freelance writer who has no shame and won’t grow up.  He graduated college over a decade ago but he continues to pretend to like flavored vodka because that’s what the “bitches” drink.  He “talks too loudly,” drinks “too much” and “makes poor decisions”—allegedly.  As far as Dickless is concerned, he doesn’t have a problem, Dad.  His favorite thing about National Detective Day is what he calls the Black Out Taxi.  Don’t know how to get home?  Just drink till you wake up somewhere.