The din of the halloween

November 02, 2002

The din of the halloween battlefield rages all around my house. Cats are hiding. The jaded 13 year old boys show up at the door in groups of four or five with their skateboards. They hold their school day backpacks open and remain silent. No costumes. If provoked they wisecrack and lope away slowly muttering curses. Its a combination candy jacking and sport panhandling. They want to be kids but are now into the year where they are afraid to admit it. They are a species in evolutionary limbo. They are the ones who will return to snatch our jack o’ lanterns and smash them on the road. They are the ones who will lift the lid, drop in the lit screecher and run. I can identify with them because I was there too. Its a good thing they have a sanctioned night where they will only half get in trouble for it. By the sound of the relentless crossfading sirens in the distance the police have no time to deal with this stuff. These are the post Trick or Treat and pre Halloween party years. I have fond memories of tricking and treating and the in-between mischief years. The halloween costume parties were less my thing. Watching a giant bunny lying in the dirty clothes of a foreign laundry room puking up what looked like a tuna sandwich and saying, “I love you man” was pretty good but perhaps undignified for all involved. There were years when you stood a chance of being the bunny. I think about those boys and hope they don’t blow their hands off, weld their eyes shut, or get a plank in the head from the old man who just can’t take it anymore. If we teach kids how to use a condom maybe we better teach them how to use explosives in a safe manner. Restrict your targets to inanimate objects of little value. Don’t bring the little ones into your game. Have a nice warm up before all your sprinting across moist dark lawns. You might miss hockey practice the next day with a sprain and I hear that cute girl from division 16 is showing up with her brother. Don’t look down the end and say, ”dude, maybe its a dud” ‘cause
. . .maybe not dude.