Halloween Hardships

Halloween has never been my favorite holiday. It’s not that I have any moral objections to demanding candy from people; that would be a bit overly principled, even for Baptists. No, I think it stems from my timid demeanor as a child.

I was always a shy kid around people I didn’t know. Thus, the idea of walking around and asking complete strangers to give me sugar seemed completely ludicrous. I made my parents come with me (not just with, up to the door) until I was 13 years old.

The goal of most kids was to look as scary as possible. Not me. I tried to dress as cute as possible, that way my neighbors would just say, “Awww,” and give me the candy without me having to utter a word. Other kids started at dogs and progressed to Scream masks. I went from Mickey Mouse to an M&M in eight moves.

I mean, it’s only three words: Trick or Treat. I could say other phrases only three words long no problem: “I am hungry,” “Hippos are fat,” “Gym is stupid,” “That’s my pipe.” I suppose it's kind of ironic then that I ended up a writer. I couldn’t even beg for food the one day people are dying (wham! Halloween pun) to give it away. How am I supposed to do it as part of my living?

But that’s the past. Here in college the object is not to look scary and get candy. It’s to look like a slut and get laid. Nurses, witches, cats, police: all with cleavage and most certainly wearing stockings. If not one of the top four, your costume is designed around what would look absolutely ridiculous when you’re completely trashed at the end of the night. Let’s just say there was definitely a Winnie the Pooh stumbling its way around the World Series riots last year in Kenmore Square.

Yet old habits die hard and I’m still going with the cute angle today. For the party tonight, I’m dressed as someone protesting how Mother Nature decided to skip fall and go straight to winter this year. So yes, that means I don’t have a costume. However, it also means I’m always cute. Result!

I arrived twenty minutes late, like usual. Someone buzzed me in and I climbed the stairs to apartment 3. The door was open and I walked right in. The apartment was dark but I could not see any sign of a party.

“Hello?” I asked.
“Salutations,” a voice responded, a voice I’d heard somewhere before.
“Is this the No Dressing Up party?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Where is everyone?”
“This is everyone.”
“Are you trying to be difficult?”
“Sorry. Wait, why am I apologizing? I’m the killer.”

And then I remembered where I’d heard that voice before. It was Jigsaw from the movie Saw.

“What do you want from me?” I pleaded.
“To kill you, of course.”
“But I haven’t done anything. Don’t you normally kill people who are leading their lives wrongly? What’s your name, anyhow?”
“Todd.”
“Well, Todd, I think you’ve made a mistake. I’m an angel.”
“I was too. But then I went to a doctor who was also a veterinarian. He got confused between animals and humans one day. I was spayed.”
“That’s awful!”
“I got off lucky. He put my brother down.”
“I’m sorry, but what do I have to do with this?”
“You are a Pre-Med student.”
“Were. I dropped it within a month of starting freshman year.”
“Oh. Bugger.”

By this time I had found a light switch and discovered the door and windows to be locked. There was a Mr. Potato Head doll lying on a couch with a knife through it’s, er, skull, I guess you would call it.

“I’m such a failure. Now they’ll never let me star in the Saw spin-off, Chisel.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t feel too bad about it, Todd. The Horror genre is so creatively bankrupt anyway. Showing your emotional side is sure to garner you some buzz.”
“I hope you’re right. I’ve always dreamed of being a respectable dramatic actor like Val Kilmer.”

Silence ensued. I felt the minutes tick by as I waited for my mystery host to release me.

“So what do we do now?” I questioned after awhile.
“I don’t know, have a party I suppose.”
“Will there be balloons?”
“Oh yes, there will be balloons.”
“Great.”
“You want some Candy Corn?”

At the mention of this, Candy Corn shot out of the walls and pelted my non-costumed frame.

“Ow, fuck, man. That hurts.”
“Sorry.”
“Besides, nobody actually eats Candy Corn. It’s an element, like Phosphorus or Titanium. There was a certain amount of it here on Earth when time began and people just keeps offering it to everyone else. It never gets eaten, just passed around.”
“I see. Sorry I ruined your holiday.”
“Don’t worry about it. I always wanted to be tops at the box office.”