I was never much of a Halloween fan, not even as a kid. Oh, I jumped through all the required hoops to get my sack o’ chocolate, but it wasn’t a lot of fun. Wearing wigs and press-on mustaches just doesn’t mash my buttons, for some reason. Many people love it, but I’m not one of them.
Plus, I’m not really into the dark arts.
However, I do have a few Halloween memories that make me smile, and I’ll briefly share them with you now. Then I’ll turn it over to you guys, while I spend Halloween night 2012 inside a distribution center, wondering how it all went wrong. OK? OK.
When I was teenager we liked to throw eggs on Halloween night. Most of the grocery stores wouldn’t sell them to young troublemakers like us, but we just went to Fas-Chek. They didn’t give a shit.
There would be a bunch of us riding around in the back of Bill’s pickup truck, flinging eggs all willy-nilly. We sometimes had a hundred of them, and we’d hit all the people we didn’t like — mostly assholes on our paper routes — and random “targets of opportunity.”
One year in particular was memorable. There were people in that truck we barely knew, and it devolved into some shit that could’ve landed us in prison.
I remember us riding on Fairlawn Avenue — which is a high-traffic two-lane road. And some (drunk) girl was standing up in the bed of the truck, hurling eggs straight down onto the windshields of cars traveling in the opposite direction. She’d wind-up, like Tom Seaver, and I just knew one of those cars would leave the road, and drive through a house or something.
A couple of us told her to knock it off, but she was one of those tough Joan Jett types, and didn’t like to be told what to do. Freaking crazy. Somehow we got away with it, but I was puckered for hours.
A tip for egg-throwers: If your target is far away, you should shake the egg before throwing it. If you don’t it’ll explode in your hand. Close targets don’t require any shaking, because there’s not as much pressure upon release.
Since Halloween is always around election time, we also liked to stay out late and move campaign signs around. We put an enormous wooden sign in our friend Tim’s front yard one year. It was huge, with support beams, etc. It required quite an effort.
We also FILLED Rocky’s front yard with signs a couple of times. We did it once with real estate signs, and once with campaign materials. The election stuff was hilarious, because there were dozens and dozens of signs — often with competing candidates represented. I wish we would’ve taken a picture. The entire yard was wall-to-wall signs, and we just couldn’t stop laughing.
One year Bill and I got caught by the cops putting election signs into the back of his truck. We’d been drinking (go figure), and while the police left us alone for a few minutes we began eating grass, to try cover the beer smell. We were sitting on a curb, yanking handfuls of sod out of the ground, and packing it into our mouths. Heh.
The cops were not amused by our little “project,” but let us go. My dad somehow found out about it, though. He told me the politicians had been blaming each other for their signs disappearing, and we’d almost triggered a major incident. Some of them were ready to make formal complaints to the Attorney General.
In California everybody in our neighborhood got into Halloween, big-time. Some people worked for the movie studios, building sets and whatnot, and they created some of the most elaborate decorations I’ve ever seen. It was a giant party, and a whole lot of fun.
On the corner were a couple of high functioning alcoholics, named Andy and Candy, who passed out king-sized Snickers bars to the kids, and cans of beer to their parents.
We’d have hundreds of people come to our door, and it was just a blast. All the adults were mildly buzzed, the kids were having a great time, and it was the best Halloween experience ever. Enthusiasm, booze, and George Lucas’ Industrial Light & Magic add up to some good times, I’ve learned.
In Atlanta I remember overhearing an extremely gay man telling someone he and his partner passed out individual Tic Tacs for Halloween. I don’t know if it’s true, but it made me laugh, anyway.
And I need to go now. If you have any good Halloween tales to tell, please do so in the comments section below.
See ya next time, my friends!
Now playing in the bunker
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Uno yet again.
This is an Army training course in Fort Sam:
FAMILY ADVOCACY PROGRAM (FAP) TEAM BUILDING
now to read the update.
I had a Halloween party in a cemetary once when I was in high school that was supposed to be a small affair, but ballooned into 300+ people and ended up on the 11:00 news (unbeknownst to me). I told my parents I was going to a friends house to watch movies with some friends (in costume, and she bought it).
When I got home that night, my mom said “so, how was your movie?” “Fine”. “It must have been hard to watch FROM THE CEMETARY”. Evidently, she recognized my costume on TV. So busted. I think she slapped me all the way up the stairs. Somehow, she knew I was the ringleader. Imagine.
I live in an older neighborhood with historic homes in a more “urban” area of our small town so all of the urban churches load up their church vans and drop off tons of kids to go trick-or-treat at the “rich folks” houses (we aren’t rich, but I guess “rich” is in the eye of the beholder). So all of the dad’s dress up and take our kids early, one of us pulling a wagon loaded with ice and beers for the rest of the Dads. Everyone has a “good” bucket of candy for all age appropriate trick-or-treaters in costume and a bucket of crap candy (raisins and Sam’s Club fruit snacks) for teenagers and people old enough to (and often actually) smoking cigs. Seems less confrontational version of a “Fuck You” with less risk of a brick sailing through a window. The whole neighborhood shuts down at 8 and all head to a designated house where the kids get hopped up on pizza and chocolate and the adults get pie eyed. My favorite holiday by far.
I’m giving out scoops of ice cream tonight.
Cloves of garlic make a nice treat as well.
I’m passing out candied onions.
I’m giving out balls of dryer lint.
I’ve got a nice batch of ice cubes ready to go
I’m giving out kicks in the nuts.
I’m giving out so many rights, the trick-or-treaters will be begging for lefts!
When we got a little older and were no longer insterested in candy, but more towards buffoonery, we were warned by our parents to “knock that shit off.” I went to my friend Pat’s house and her father distinctly said “Do NOT take my shaving cream!” So of course, we did. That godddamn missle sized jug of Barbarsol.
Well, there was an apartment complex with undergorund tunnels and doors leading to various courtyards just BEGGING for a bunch of kids to go tear assing through. Some tunnels were pitch black, others had faint light but they all echoed. With 14 year old girl screams. Of course the cops were called.
I went careening out of one door onto a courtyard and just about made it when this gigantic cop clamped his meat hook down on my arm and yanked the offending Barbasol out of my mitts. (think of the dude in “The Green Mile”) So I burst into tears. He wasn’t moved.We were so busted.
I will say, we never threw eggs. My mother would have beat me silly for wasting food.
For the record, uncooked grass tastes like shit.
as opposed to sautéed?
Can’t really think of any super-happy Halloween memories. I’m just waiting for Beltane. Damn, I’m gonna have me some fun on Beltane. Don’t get me started on good Beltane memories.
I am really looking forward to Hogmanay.
Every Halloween, my dad would suggest a “list” of fun things for me and “your little friends”, as he would say. Here they are in no particular order:
1. Go corn the people’s houses.
2. Scoop up the dog shit in the back yard, put it In a brown lunch bag, light it on fire on someone’s front porch….ring the doorbell and run like hell.
3. Stick pins in people’s doorbell’s.
4. Don’t forget to take a roll of toilet paper with you for tree’s and bushes.
5. Take two masks…go back for more candy.
And every year mom would have a fit over his suggestions.
Wasn’t too funny when I got hauled to the police station for throwing eggs. My idea.
How do you corn a house? Corn hole? Corn husk? Corn oil? (that would be fun!)
Seriously, never heard that phrase!
Is corning what we used to call tic-tac ing? We would steal feed corn from the local field and throw it [just the kernels, not the cobs!] on to houses with aluminum siding. I haven’t thought about that in 35 years!
Yep! That’s it! I lived in Indiana, PA. So a lot lot feed corn to be had. Load up a brown bag full of shucked corn, throw a handful at the front door and RUN LIKE HELL! It makes a shit load of noise. Mainly scares the living hell out if people just relaxing in front of the TV. Neighborhood dogs go ape shit. And it’s a mess to sweep up. We got “corned” a few times. Payback. But it’s fun as hell! Can’t do it now a day’s…too many camera’s and video surveillance out there. Too bad too! I would so love to do it again…..for old times sake! 🙂
I’m an old Allentown boy. Ya know, where they took all the coal from the ground, then shut the factories down.
I am still angry at Billy Joel for this…
We used to go to the egg farm and buy flats of blood eggs cheap. It is amazing that my friends and I lived through that phase.
Blood eggs? Never mind, I don’t want tot know.
I just became Wonder Womanatee for the day! http://i.imgur.com/CrqY4.jpg
What the Christ?
You say “high functioning alcoholics” like it’s a bad thing. You may alienate some [OK, lots] of your loyal readers.
I didn’t even think to get offended but now that you mention it, I’M PISSED!! Thank God Bourbon season kicks in tonight.
As a high functioning alcoholic who fixes aircraft for a living I’m highly airfended.
My favorite memory is of Halloween, 1978. My older sister goes out with a group of kids, supervised by our next door neighbor and her sister. I, luckily, get to go to ONE house with my father, to get ONE candy bar (Milky Way), that he closely inspected, then threw it away. My sister? Came home with TWO pillowcases full of candy. So, of course, all of us ate candy.
I still remember that lady’s house. Dark orange shag carpeting, black rotary phone that I’m pretty sure she was renting from (then) Southwestern Bell, ugly-ass 70s furniture all the way around. You cannot tell me that the 70s weren’t the fucking ugliest 10 years EVAR! I mean, sure, I can only remember the last 2.5 of them, but dammit, why was everything so brown? Green? Orange? Gold?!?!
I still remember the costume–I was an “Indian” (well, great grandpa on my mother’s side was “Indian”, but no one ever said what kind….Choctaw? Blackfoot? Cherokee? What?) complete with a long dress (pink, yeah, lots of old-timey movie Indians wore pink dresses), leather headband with feathers, and little brown moccasins). All that work to get one damn candy bar that my father thinks that someone at the Mars (?) factory poisoned. (He figured that the old lady wouldn’t do anything.)
30 years later, I’m walking down the street, and who’s standing on her porch asking me to help her move a 30 pound bag of salt? The same OLD lady! (How’d the hell did she know who I was? I could’ve been a killer.) So instead of “helping” her move the salt–shit, the bag was 1/3 her weight), I move it, and looking around, the house was the goddamned SAME!!! Fucked me up!
To make this boring story a wee bit longer, she passed away early this year, and they sent out pictures of the house (the real estate company does this), and the pictures show the same house has the 1978 one.
How is that a selling point? Well, someone bought it, and turned it into a daycare.
Yeah, I know. Most exciting story EVER!!!!
My fave Halloween item was one my husband got in his treat bag as a kid. He grew up in what is now a really sketchy area of town; back then it was only mildly sketchy. Anyway, he and his friends were trick or treating and they rang the bell at one of the house’s on the block. They could see a woman drinking inside and kept ringing the bell incessantly until she finally got up and staggered to the door. She blearily opened the door, clearly with no idea what was going on. The kids yelled ‘trick or treat’ and she mumbled something about forgetting it was Halloween. They were going to go but she told them to hold on a minute. She stumbled inside and returned a minute later, dropping something into their bags before shutting the door. When my husband and his friends opened his bag to see what he got, they discovered she had given them all one SOS pad. Yup, a household cleaning product. Classic.
As for me, a very religious lady down the street would always hand out an apple and a mini bible that said “No Trick just Treat” on the cover. I hoarded those little bibles and over the years have wrapped them in varying size boxes and given them to my brother at Christmas. It’s pretty much a tradition at this point, and probably one of the many reasons I am going to hell.
I never really liked Halloween either. Walking around in the dark made me nervous, and I live in Michigan so it was usually cold and you’d have to wear your winter coat over your costume. Nobody wants to be a princess with a big puffy parka on. Plus, it seemed like every year without fail, somebody in our trick-or-treating group fell off of someone’s front porch and landed with a thud in the bushes. Good, quality times for sure.
I do remember one year, one house gave out full size candy bars that the lady let us choose from, and an old man a few houses down sat on a lawn chair in his driveway and gave each kid two quarters. And I was EXCITED about that 50 cents. Those were the days.
These stories are great guys!
My little sister (age 41) is a dental hygeniest. She buys a case of Oral-B individual wrapped toothbrushes and travel size toothpaste at wholesale as Trick-or-treat gifts). I think she told me the toothbrushes cost 21 cents and the toothpaste is 18 cents or somesuch.
Last year, she gave out 288 of each for Halloween and ran out of shit after about 2 hours.
This year, she bought double. Can’t wait to talk to her tomorrow and find out if she has a shitload left over or if she got 500+ kids at her door.
Yes, she is nuts, but in a very funny way. (High functioning vodka queen.)
One year I renetd a wheelchair and went as “Ironside” to a party. The theme was “Your favorite 1966 TV character” . OK, so Raymond Burr wasn’t exactly my favorite, but I won first prize.
Another year, I went as… bikerman (not bikerchick!) I took a few eyebrow pencils to give myslef bushy eyebrows, a mustache and scraggly beard. Nobody (and I mean NOBODY) knew who I was. I need to find a picture.
Forgot that one year we were out raising hell and I ended up hurling a full city stop sign (pole and all) through the front window of a run down house across the street from ours. Basically just javelined the thing through the window. Jeff has reported on some of the other antics we got into, involving this house. Years later, after the house was sold and was being renovated, I saw an old man coming out one of the doors with stop sign in hand. I went over to inquire and he said “just what in the hell is a stop sign doing in there??”. I just stood there, laughing. Good times!
Isn’t this the same house y’all pulled the coaxial cable out of and tied it off to the stop sign across the street?