Monday, 25 October 2010
That stupid blockhead of a brother of mine is out in the pumpkin patch making his yearly fool of himself.
I've told these two stories before, but I'm going to tell them again because: a) I'm redundant. I repeat myself. I say the same things over and over. And b) The stories are the reason I am the way I am (the way I am is: coward), and so it's important information if you ever find yourself wanting to protect or torture me.
Here's the first story: Despite my shivers and held tears and ardent pleas, my kindergarten teacher made me go into a haunted house put on by the fifth graders at my elementary school. The first thing I saw when she dragged me inside was a vampire popping his evil head up out of a coffin. And so I peed my pants.
Here's the second story: When I was in fourth grade, I followed my sister onto the school bus on Halloween morning. Streamers were hanging down from the door -- orange and black ones -- and when I pulled them back, my regular driver was not in her seat. No, Dracula was driving the bus. And so I jumped off the bus, ran back across the road and through my yard screaming all the way, "JENN, GET OFF THE BUS! IT'S A TRICK! IT'S A TRICK!"
Some other things happened to me, too, on Halloween. Like this one time, a guy jumped out from behind a bush brandishing a chainsaw. And another guy answered his door for trick-or-treating covered in blood, and he grabbed me. So the thing is: I don't really like Halloween very much. I mean, I like candy. And I like costumes. And I like Great Pumpkins and Charlie Brown. But I'm genetically predispositioned to be a gutless, yellow, pie-slinger.
When we were kids, I made my sister walk to front doors and ring doorbells all by herself. If no one was dressed up in a scary way, she'd motion me to come get some candy. If someone was dressed up in a scary way, she'd point to me at the end of the driveway and ask for extra candy. If the scary costume assholes wouldn't give her any extra, she just split her loot with me.
Now that I'm a grownup, I make Amy answer the door for trick-or-treaters just in case any of them are scary. Sometimes we peer through the windows when trick-or-treaters are walking up the driveway and if we're sure there are only friendly things, I'll answer the door by myself and give out delicious treats.
What I am saying is my only real Halloween tradition is being terrified.
And carving pumpkins. I'm really good at carving pumpkins.
Posted by Heather Anne Hogan at 11:06 am