Halloween is around the corner.
Pumpkins.
Witches.
Ghosts.
Trick or treaters.
I read in the paper that pet shelters won’t adopt out black cats during October because people do awful things to them.
One person wanted two cats for decorations for their party.
Decorations. For a party.
It’s so wrong.
Cats are not decorations. They have souls, like us.
And when they’re gone?
Halloween is around the corner.
I get out the plastic pumpkins. Then the witches. And the ghosts.
And a paper black cat, arched over three orange letters:
Boo.
I put it away.
I miss him so much.
Category: My stories
The train station
Guiseppe the Organ Grinder used to play in the old train station every day.
He brought with him Pablo, his helper monkey, and dressed him in a little suit. Pablo would dance and work the crowd for tips.
When Guiseppe died, his ghost played the organ for the crowds.
Pablo still danced and worked the crowd, even after he, too, died.
Then the Germans bombed the old train station into oblivion.
We built a new train station, far from the old haunted one.
And it’s much nicer and cleaner.
Because, even when he was alive, Guiseppe couldn’t play for shit.
Mommy Tax
After every Halloween, my mother would pick out pieces of my candy and take them for herself.
“It’s the Mommy Tax,” she said.
The Mommy Tax never included crappy popcorn balls or sugar-free junk. It was always good stuff, like Snickers bars.
And not those crappy fun-size ones, either. Full-sized Snickers bars.
So, I carried two bags: Crappy stuff in one, good stuff in the other.
Then I’d hide the bag with the good stuff before coming inside.
Later, I’d sneak out to get the good bag.
Then I learned, she was checking for tampering.
Nobody ever poisons crappy candy.
Too Soon
The Halloween after 9/11, a lot of kids went around dressed as firemen and policemen to honor those who died in the World Trade Center attacks.
A few went around as soldiers and officers to honor those who died at The Pentagon.
Did any go as pilots or flight attendants? Or passengers?
Or the stockbrokers and businesspeople who died in the buildings?
I just assumed that everyone who dressed as a ghost was the ghost of a 9/11 victim.
So, I shouted “TOO SOON!” at them all, and slammed the door.
Okay, so I forgot to buy candy.
Upstairs Leak
The psycho upstairs neighbor has a leak in their pipes, so we’ve got a trickle of water down the wall and into the cabinets.
It’s their kitchen sink’s drain pipe, so it’s the crap that’s going down their sink.
And it stinks.
I put on my shoes and get ready to walk upstairs to yell at them to stop using the sink when I notice that the water’s turned from clear… to red.
I rub my finger on it.
It feels like… blood?
I calmly sit back down, pick up the phone, and call maintenance.
Their problem, not mine.
Twins
The strangest Halloween costume I ever saw was the costume that the Smith Twins wore together.
They wore the same clothes, and walked around with a mirror frame between them.
Everything Pete did, Paul did in mirror-fashion. And vice versa.
They had the choreography down cold.
And yet, for all the effort, they didn’t get any candy.
Because each had his own bag, and one couldn’t accept candy without the other getting candy at the same time.
They said they’d just hold half of a shared bag next time, but they got run over by a truck and killed.
Together.
Ghost Operators
The first elevators used human operators.
They pulled levers to open and close the doors, or to lower or raise the car.
Then came automatic elevators that had buttons to select floors, automatic doors with safety bumpers, and no other controls.
People didn’t quite adjust to the new elevators. They looked for human operators.
Instead, there were voices in each elevator that welcomed the passengers and invited them to push buttons.
No, they were not on tape. These were the ghosts of the elevator operators.
People became more comfortable with the automated elevators.
Their purpose fulfilled, the ghosts moved on.
Two Scoops
Kellogg’s says there are two scoops of raisins in every box.
However, they never say how big the scoops are.
I’ve seen some tiny scoops at the bulk candy store, and I’ve seen some huge scoops in the flour bins at the Whole Foods.
It’s not the huge scoops. Because the box would be all raisins and no bran.
And that “Two Scoops” phrase is on every box, big and small. Even those tiny boxes in the hotel’s continental breakfast buffet. So scoops aren’t the same size for every box?
I think they’re full of shit.
Two scoops of it.
Endangered
I’m tired of all the smug assholes who eat organic foods and drive hybrids.
What’s the opposite of green? Red?
Whatever it is, I want it. I want it bad.
I want a carbon footprint the size of Godzilla stomping Tokyo.
Every time I buy your product, I want to know that an endangered species has died.
And not one of those ugly benthic freaky fish or nasty killer wasps or Amazonian fruit snakes, either.
I want it to be some cute fluffy creature that you could hug all day that snuffs it for all eternity.
And then, grill it.
Max Paints
Max opened up a paint store, but the signmaker got the order wrong, so the sign said MAX’S PANTS.
Everything said MAX’S PANTS on it: bank account, business license, and all that other stuff.
He tried to paint an I in between the A and the N on everything, but people kept coming into his store asking for the cuffs on a pair of trousers to be altered.
Max got fed up with the mistake, and began to paint the pants that people brought in.
And they loved it!
Galleries… art museums… all trying to get his pants into them!