Category: Halloween

It used to be that you could hang a shirt from a stick, put a hat on top, and scare off crows that way.
But these days, most crows aren’t scared by a traditional scarecrow.
So, farmers now fly drones around their fields to scare off the birds.
This works as long as the drones fly. Which isn’t very long, if you’re running on batteries.
While the drone charges, the birds feast.
But if you use ultra light-weight drones with solar panels, they’ll stay up all day long.
Then, all you have to worry about is running out of missiles.

It’s cute when the kids dress up as ghosts and vampires, and then wander around the neighborhood begging for candy with “Trick or Treat!”
It’s not cute when the hundreds of children of Syrian refugees that the government settled here throw rocks through windows and torch churches and cars with “Allahu Ackbar!”
It’s hard to call them children when they’ve got beards. Sure, nineteen is still technically a teenager, but we try them as adults.
The government provides lawyers and community advocates. In and out of the jail they go.
And back to burning and looting.
We sure got tricked.

It started with hanging sheets around the place.
Then, we added battery-powered fans to make them flutter a bit.
Okay, in the dark, with some smoke machines, they kinda looked like ghosts.
But they weren’t good enough.
We rigged up holographic projectors, and bounced their images off of plastic sheets.
And we went full HD with the animated visuals.
They totally scared the shit out of everyone.
And several of the nursing home residents died from heart attacks.
The rest called the state agency in to shut us down.
Yeah, we’re all out of work. But fuck it. We rocked.

So, you stole the witch’s spellbook?
Big deal.
Do you know the language she used?
The alphabet? Her handwriting?
It’s not just the words, but hand gestures and chemicals.
And those things in the jars.
Do you use the left eye of the newt or the right?
It’s not just a cookbook.
The spellbook is a living, breathing thing.
It’s a part of her.
And she can feel its loss. She will reach out to it.
She will find it. She will find us.
Unless we burn it. Tonight.
Right now.
Don’t breathe the smoke.
Don’t look into the flame.

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.

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.

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.

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.