"How much for this mask?" you ask, the store clerk looking at his newspaper. Not even lifting an eye he says "do you know what that thing is?"
"No," you respond.
"It will give you more trouble, and more pleasure than you possibly know what to do with. How old are you? 20? You got a lifetime of fun ahead of you?"
"Uhh, I guess," you answer, cryptically.
"Tell ya what, you can take that mask, but I don't want it returned and I don't ever want to see you wearing it. Okay?"
You grab the mask, permission granted. "Thanks," you say, and head back to campus.
The mask seemed to have a strange glow to it from the inside, it seemed to invite you to wear it, but that's just silly, you tell yourself. You pass the frathouse, remembering you're supposed to rush the house tonight. "Maybe I take it with me tonight?" you ask.