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Klutch.xls: Hallow-who, Hallow-what?
If you were to ask Jimmy what his Halloween plans were, he would respond with the expected:
"Gadoy!"
Followed by:
"Hengh-heh, I'm goin down to the punkin patch to sit on some punkin stems! Gadoy!"
That's my only Halloween recollection whatsoever. I have no stories to tell. We raised hell as teens but as far as I can remember we never did anything for Halloween. Nothing for Devils Night. I don't recall any costumes from my youth. I have never liked candy. I absolutely abhore chocolate. I am afraid of the dark, teens, razor blades, and the smell of moldy pumpkins. I never had a plastic costume from a box.
Oh wait, here's one:
In middle school I was the treasurer for our student council. The Nun who was our advisor forced me to sign over all of our fundraising money to an organization that helped kids with club-foot, but that's another story entirely.
We were charged with creating a haunted house for the k-4 crowd. I lobbied to decapitate and hang about a dozen Cabbage Patch Kids (c) from the rafters. This plan was vetoed by said Nun. I hope that evil cunt is dead.
I don't remember giving out candy from our house. I have no idea how one would get toilet paper up into a tree, or what the satisfaction of doing so would feel like. I am a vegan. I stay far away from eggs.
Aw snap, check this:
I do remember one Halloween I spent with the Grandparents. I was pretty young (probably single digits.) I walked up to their neighbors door, hit the doorbell and held out my plastic pumpkin anticipating a treat. The door opened slowly and standing in front of me was an old man with a big f'ing Trach-hole in the middle of his neck. I had never been so frightened in my life. He was a monster to me.
At that young age, I marked in my mind the candy stick he dropped in my pumpkin. I refused to go to any more houses. Back at the Gramp's home I categorically seperated my candy into piles leaving that stick of candy delivered by satan off to the side.
"Eat it!" my grandparents said.
No. It's poison. I don't like that kind. Absolutely not.
"Eat it, goddamn it, eat it! It's a perfectly good piece of candy for christ's sake!"
If it's so good, why don't you just eat it?
My grandfather took me up on the offer. He ate the candy.
Four years later he had his very own trach-hole in the middle of his scrawny little neck.
Two years later he was dead.
I am only realizing now the impression that this whole episode has left on me.
Anyhow, there is one thing that I know is true: tonight I will be dressing up as Cobra Commander. The one with the blue hood, not with the silver face guard. I built the costume myself last night. I just hope I am not mistaken for a Blue KKK Member. I think I may have to accessorize.
Happy Hallowteen.
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