Monday, October 31, 2011


It is the night the two leggers call "Halloween".

For 364 days of the year, two leggers constantly tell their spawn:
1. Never talk to strangers.
2. Never take candy from strangers.
3. Never go outside after dark.
4. Always be respectful of your neighbors.
5. The Devil is bad. (Unless he has a reality show)
6. Witches are bad. (Unless they have a reality show.)
7. Ghosts are bad. (Unless their name is "Casper" and then they are just annoying.)

Then on October Thirty-First, the adult two leggers say to their offspring: "Screw it, go out and do all those things, just make sure you wear a disguise so no one knows who your parents are."

We knew the day had arrived when my two leggers came home with ten large grocery bags of assorted candies. Eight of them were immediately hidden in the two leggers closet and declared to be the female's "Candy stash". The rest were poured into a large bowl shaped like the open cranium of a zombie thingy. This bowl seems to amuse the two leggers and they take great pride in showing it to all the little beggars that show up at my door.

The two leggers then don their costumes. The male dresses as a cowboy. (He's a native Texan with an overgrown mustache thingy, how hard can it be?) The female dresses as, well, a jewelry salesperson who has just returned home after a long day at work.

Within 20 minutes, the doorbell thingy rings. The micro-two legger is dressed as a fairy princess and appears to be approximately three years old. Something about the male's mega-stache strikes fear into her little heart and she runs screaming down my deck leaving a cloud of miniature wings and sequin thingies.

This amuses me.

The next time the doorbell thingy rings, it is a young male dressed as either a dog thingy or a werewolf with a terminal case of mange. He seems unaffected by the power of the mustache, but he too flees due to the fact that Ivan, upon spotting a strange dog thingy on my doorstep, has attacked the male two legger causing him to scream in agony and splatter blood upon the candy.

This too, amuses me

Shortly after the blood is cleaned up and the cowboy is bandaged, the doorbell thingy rings a third time. This time my doorstep is graced by three two leggers of the early teen variety. They are dressed as vampires and have that certain  "I ain't scared of nuffin but books with no pictures" look in their eyes. The mustache holds no power over them. Ivan has been locked in the bathroom where he is currently menacing an errant cotton swab. The two legger holds the zombie head candy dish out to them. With smug looks on their ashen acne pocked faces, they reach in and grab a handful of warm drippy awesomeness. They look at each other and run off into the night retching and screaming. 

Sometimes my choice of hairball thingy placement is nothing short of genius.