Halloween Hiatus
I don’t think it’s possible that anybody hates Halloween more than I do. I enjoy Halloween like Hitler enjoyed a good steaming bowl of Matzah Ball Soup.
I’m not exactly sure what my aversion to this holiday is; all I know is that I detest it. It’s only the 28th, and already on my drive to work I passed by Jason from the ‘Friday the 13th’ series driving a yellow school bus. Some may view this particular happenstance to be humorous and of a healthy Halloween spirit…I think it’s just creepy! I can’t think of a more ominous way to begin my day had I decided to carpool with Paul Bernardo.
Maybe it’s my subconscious that figures that my life is a complete horror story enough that it doesn’t need to experience the needless tricks or treats that present continuous “fight or flight” adrenaline rushes to my heart every 30 nanoseconds or so throughout the regular day. Just going to the local Laundromat is scary enough, thank you! My weak heart and poor deluded mind just doesn’t react too well to these situations that present themselves, evoking me with the sudden uncontrollable impulse to judo kick every vampire, ghost, witch, and zombie square in the crotch before curling up into the fetal position on the ground and crying like a little schoolgirl. Yeah, that’s cool!
I can just picture the gory scenario now: After the required mandatory bong hit, I leave for work in the morning. Only as I round a corner I unsuspectingly happen upon a group of school children dressed for their special class Halloween parties at the bus stop, and my half-baked adrenaline reflect system kicks in and before you know if I’ve snapped and dropkicked the little Frankenstein that lives down the street in the jewels with my steel toe boots and there’s a police squad car already racing to the scene.
That’s certainly something that would be hard to explain to your father when you call begging for bail money.
“Hi, dad? Yeah, I’m in a bit of trouble. I’ve been arrested for assault on a minor. Uh-huh…that’s right. Well…the county prosecutor says that if little Timmy’s testicle retracts safely from his abdomen, then they’ll reduce the charges to kicking a minor in the jewels. So, how money can you get your hands on?”
Besides, if memory serves me correct…everybody goes as a vampire or a witch, or a measly ghost anyways. So what’s the big whoop? It’s regular as clockwork ~ every year. Everybody ends up forgetting at the last minute and hastily throws something together...or they didn't have the creative brainpower to plan out anything beyond throwing on their blackest clothes and drawing bloody dribble marks on their chin in the first place. Perhaps they are the proud billionth generation of a long history of creatively stunted Halloween looser to carry on with the 'ol "Halloween Vampire Costume" tradition that has run in their family for eons.
Imagine life in these households: "My mother's, mother's, MOTHER dressed as Witch, and you will too some day, Deary!”…or, "Eventually son, these plastic novelty fangs will be all YOURS!"
I’m not exactly sure what my aversion to this holiday is; all I know is that I detest it. It’s only the 28th, and already on my drive to work I passed by Jason from the ‘Friday the 13th’ series driving a yellow school bus. Some may view this particular happenstance to be humorous and of a healthy Halloween spirit…I think it’s just creepy! I can’t think of a more ominous way to begin my day had I decided to carpool with Paul Bernardo.
Maybe it’s my subconscious that figures that my life is a complete horror story enough that it doesn’t need to experience the needless tricks or treats that present continuous “fight or flight” adrenaline rushes to my heart every 30 nanoseconds or so throughout the regular day. Just going to the local Laundromat is scary enough, thank you! My weak heart and poor deluded mind just doesn’t react too well to these situations that present themselves, evoking me with the sudden uncontrollable impulse to judo kick every vampire, ghost, witch, and zombie square in the crotch before curling up into the fetal position on the ground and crying like a little schoolgirl. Yeah, that’s cool!
I can just picture the gory scenario now: After the required mandatory bong hit, I leave for work in the morning. Only as I round a corner I unsuspectingly happen upon a group of school children dressed for their special class Halloween parties at the bus stop, and my half-baked adrenaline reflect system kicks in and before you know if I’ve snapped and dropkicked the little Frankenstein that lives down the street in the jewels with my steel toe boots and there’s a police squad car already racing to the scene.
That’s certainly something that would be hard to explain to your father when you call begging for bail money.
“Hi, dad? Yeah, I’m in a bit of trouble. I’ve been arrested for assault on a minor. Uh-huh…that’s right. Well…the county prosecutor says that if little Timmy’s testicle retracts safely from his abdomen, then they’ll reduce the charges to kicking a minor in the jewels. So, how money can you get your hands on?”
Besides, if memory serves me correct…everybody goes as a vampire or a witch, or a measly ghost anyways. So what’s the big whoop? It’s regular as clockwork ~ every year. Everybody ends up forgetting at the last minute and hastily throws something together...or they didn't have the creative brainpower to plan out anything beyond throwing on their blackest clothes and drawing bloody dribble marks on their chin in the first place. Perhaps they are the proud billionth generation of a long history of creatively stunted Halloween looser to carry on with the 'ol "Halloween Vampire Costume" tradition that has run in their family for eons.
Imagine life in these households: "My mother's, mother's, MOTHER dressed as Witch, and you will too some day, Deary!”…or, "Eventually son, these plastic novelty fangs will be all YOURS!"
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home