Today is my second favorite faux holiday of the year ... All Hallows Day. My first favorite is All Hallows Eve, and just in case your wondering, my third favorite is Godzilla's birthday, which falls on February 9. Yeah, Halloween has always been my holiday, but for the last few years, I've found myself becoming less and less excited about it. This year, I didn't even put up the lighted pumpkin decoration in the front window, and settled for three or four pumpkins on the porch. I didn't carve them into jack-o-lanterns, because that way, they are still relevant for Thanksgiving ... if the fucking chipmunk under the porch doesn't start gnawing on them.
Halloween in this neighborhood just isn't exciting anymore. Twenty-four years ago, when we first moved in the streets were full of teenagers filled with piss and vinegar (odd phrase). There was abundant egg throwing and flaming rolls of toilet paper being thrown over trees. An occasional dynamite explosion was heard. They roamed the street like a menacing mob of pimply ninjas.
But then they grew up. And subsequent batches of teenagers were less and less unruly. In fact, they became downright polite ... which sucks. Everyone is calm and mannered and the adults haul their rusty portable patio fireplaces out to the ends of their driveways, light their fires and drink milk.
Bah. The only fun I had last night was when my neighbor "Pickle Boy" (his last name is Vlasic ... get it?) purposely hauled his little tow headed monster by my driveway without stopping and I fingered him from the front window. I don't think he saw it though.
So, it used to be on All Hallows Day, I'd make it a point to take a walk early in the morning to survey what damage had been done the night before. I hadn't the chance to do that in a couple of years, so I was anxious to get out this morning at sunrise and see the carnage.
But there was nothing. No toilet paper streaming in the tree limbs. No eggs splattered against garage doors. No jack-o-lanterns smashed in the streets. Not even a single house burned to the ground.
What a wussy fucking neighborhood. Okay, so there was no destruction, so I went to plan B. Kids are kids and they drop shit. Especially when they're all coked up on Halloween night. There must be some treats laying around on the sidewalks. So for the first two miles, I scanned the ground in front of me.
Nothing. Not even a spent candy wrapper. WTF? I used to eat half of my candy before I got home. Like I said, every one's too polite and mannerly nowadays. Just when I was about to give up, I turned the corner on the street immediately above us, and ... BONANZA! Candy, all over the fucking place. It was dry last night, with no dew or frost on the ground, so according to the 24 hour wrapped candy rule, this stuff was still A-Okay to eat. I walked along and stuffed my pockets. And here's my haul.
Going with tradition, I chewed all the bubble gum before I got home. M&M's, Reeses Peanut Butter Cup, Three Musketeers, Laffy Taffy, Milky Way, Bottle Caps ... PAYDAY!
And an extra added bonus ... a Pabst Blue Ribbon tall boy and a pack of Winstons with five, count 'em, five cigarettes left in it. Plus a dime.
Hell, a guy could have a pretty good Saturday night with all that. Don't you think?