happy halloween!

So, Halloween. The boys' soccer team made it to the state championship a week or two ago, but ended up losing by a point on their Monday night game. And, by an odd twist of fate, sports proved to serve a purpose -- because of their twelve o'clock noon game today, school came to a close at 11:10 a.m. this morning, with all seven periods shortened to twenty-five minutes in length. Then, when I didn't think my happiness could inflate any further, I noticed on my way to history class that the week-long blanket of rolling thunderclouds had been peeled back, and the cerulean expanse of the sky could be seen once more! My joy was like those little sponge animals that you remove from the plastic capsules and drop into a glass of water, and then five minutes later, you have a sopping wet zoo animal the size of your face.

Every year my mom deems it necessary to tally the amount of kids that ring our doorbell on All Hallow's Eve. It is beyond my scope of knowledge as to why; she always buys excessive amounts of candy regardless of last year's tallies. And then for the next three months, there's little Tupperwares everywhere filled with candy, and as you're watching television you can't help but take a piece, and pretty soon you've eaten, five, six pieces of candy.

My mom started out answering the door, but then commissioned me to do the work while she completed the busy tasks of putting soup onto the stove and watching sitcoms on tape. Among the masses, I've seen two girls dressed in camouflage, a kid with an afro so large it seemed to slide down his forehead, and a girl wearing a cheer leading outfit so out of breath that she could barely utter the words, "Happy Halloween."

One year around Halloween when I was in elementary school, I caught pneumonia and was bedridden for almost two weeks. Even though I had an ungodly fever, hardly stomached meals, and had to practically crawl out from underneath the covers and drag my way to the bathroom, I was determined to go out trick-or-treating. My mom didn't believe that I was well enough to go out that night, but after strategic whining and pitiful facial expressions, she told me that I could go trick-or-treating if my fever had gone done. So, while she was rinsing off the thermometer and what-have-you, I filled my mouth with ice-cold milk like a water balloon in the hand of an anticipating child, and didn't swallow until my mom came back into the room with the readied thermometer. It read a little cooler than the average temperature of the human body. Thus, as promised, my mom reluctantly allowed me to go trick-or-treating with one of my neighbors and a friend of hers that went to school with her. As they giggled and skipped with glee from door to door, I struggled to keep up, frequently falling into coughing fits. My mom regretted letting me collect candy that night, but had I stayed home I probably would have been sitting in a puddle of my chilly tears as the other healthy children rang our bell and chanted their "trick-or-treats" and "thank-yous" in gleeful unison.

Speaking of doorbells, it seems as though this year's batch of pillowcase-toting youth are unable to locate ours, and they peer through the door-side window at the mammoth bowl of candy with salivating mouths at a loss as to how they should get the attention of the residents within. But I made a sign!

DOORBELL
--->
(allow your eyes to
follow the arrow)

Now it's taped to the outside window, and hopefully those seeking candy are literate. Words cannot describe the fear that ignites within me when I see the faces of children pressed up against the window and grinning madly. It's reminiscent of The Children of the Corn. Not that I've seen The Children of the Corn. But I've seen The Village of the Damned, and that seems close enough. The point is, there were children, and their eyes were red and their hair was white, and they looked very, very sickly.

Anyway, it's about 7:50 p.m. and Pat should be getting off work shortly, and once he gets here we're going to go trick-or-treating. Two or three years ago, Nick had wanted to go trick-or-treating with me, but I vehemently declined and we end up not going, even though my mom pleaded with me to humor him and go with him. So, since I wanted to go out this year, I decided to invite Nick. However, he wasn't sure as to whether or not he wanted to attend Jesse's party or come with Pat and me, so I told him to stay at Jesse's party for the first two hours or so and then tell me whether or not he wanted to stay. He called me a few minutes ago delivering news much like pre-wrapped slices of cheese -- apparently unlikely couples are in the making, couples that would normally have only been arranged in the presence of copious amounts of booze. Thus, Nick's coming with us on our rounds for a nimbus of candy. Even though there wasn't a conga-line of exclamation points following that statement, I'm glad he's chosen to come with us. People will be less likely to refuse us candy if we have a larger and therefore more formidable group.

Happy Halloween!