Hey, what the heck happened to Halloween? Even though we had less than a dozen visits from trick-or-treaters LAST year, I nevertheless stocked up in the hopes that things would turn around THIS year. I didn’t want to be stuck in one of those situations where I run out of candy early in the evening and have to start dispensing baker’s chocolate and dried figs from the pantry. So, the first thing I did yesterday morning was pick up one of those economy boxes, this one containing snack size Reese’s peanut butter cups, Reese’s pieces, and Oh Henry bars. I know, I know. Why would I get these peanut-packed treats given the staggering number of children out there suffering from peanut allergies? Well, simply put – because I wanted to buy treats that I could enjoy if I ended up being saddled with leftovers. Is that wrong? Okay, only a little. Next, I went by a specialty candy shop and picked up a slew of fun stuff: Nerds, Razzles, Shockers, Warheads, Gumpowder, Pop Rocks, Pixy Sticks, Millions Cola, Jumbo Jawbreakers, Bottle Caps, Juicy Drop Pops, Sour Candy Sprays, and Slithering Snake Suckers. My house was going to be THE fun stop this Halloween.
I set everything up and waited. A little after 6:00 p.m., the doorbell rang. My first customer! I answered to find two kids – accompanied by mom – standing on the porch. “Trick or treat!”they chimed.
“Oh, you’re in luck,”I told them, reaching over and presenting my bowl of treats pictured here:
“You can have broccoli or brussel sprouts or garlic to help ward away vampires…”
They were clearly unenthused.
“OR, you can take your chances with…THE MYSTERY BOX!”
Not surprisingly, they went with the mystery box (which was a good thing since I was planning to have the brussel sprouts for dinner tonight). The bigger kid was absolutely thrilled with his Slithering Snake Sucker.
Off they went and I retired to the living room where I watched football and awaited the rest of the neighborhood kids. Yep, once word got out that I was dispensing Slithering Snake Suckers and Gumpowder, they’d be beating down my door. Just in case, I made sure I had enough back-up baker’s chocolate and dried figs. THIS was going to be great!
I anxiously awaited the next batch of tricker-treaters. An hour passed. I went outside and checked to make sure the doorbell was working. It was. An hour later, I stepped out into the front yard and peeked over the gate, looking first one way, then the other. The streets were deserted. Well, looked like the young ones were being kept in this year (on account of H1N1 no doubt) but I assumed I could count on the usual teenagers in goth make-up somberly making the rounds. Surely some Jumbo Jawbreakers and Juicy Drop Pops would crack those stony facades.
An hour after that, I thought I heard something and rushed outs. The sidewalks were empty. Somewhere, in the far distance, some hooligans were setting off firecrackers. I lingered, half-hoping they’d make their way down toward me so I could offer them some Razzles and Shockers but, alas, either because they’d grown weary of the pyrotechnics or simply blown their fingers off, their evening had apparently come to an end. How disappointing for all.
An hour later, I turned off the lights, locked up, and headed up to bed.
Two kids?! Two measly kids?! What has this most hallowed of annual holiday come to? Back in my time, when I journeyed out as the likes o Captain James. T. Kirk (Yes, it WAS my pyjama top.), Han Solo (toilet paper rolls make for great blaster barrels.), and Wolverine (Yes, Das, for true.), the streets were always packed running from house to house or away from bigger kids intent on shaking them down. We’d return home, exhausted but buoyed by the task ahead: carefully sorting our loot into two distinct piles, edible treats and probably doctored fruit and poisoned raisin boxes. Those were the days!
Oh, well, Guess I’ll bring the mystery box into work with me tomorrow. Since we’re spinning stories all this week, I’ll reward every good idea with a shot at unknown treasure. Who knows? Coming up with that elusive third act could win some enterprising young writer a pack of Pop Rocks, Bottlecaps, or, if they’re really lucky, a Slithering Snake Sucker.
I’d like to thank everyone who took the time to post a response to yesterday’s entry – those who expressed support for the show and its cast, and those who expressed their intent to continue critiquing in a respectful manner. I’ve often said that this franchise has the best and smartest fans out there and I think yesterday’s comment section proves it. Still, there are those who missed the point of my rant either due to spite, willful ignorance, or an inability to grasp the fairly straightforward points made. So, for those who fall into the latter group, here is the Cliff Notes version of yesterday’s entry so simple even one of your more intelligent gorilla could follow:
1. Criticizing the show = OKAY.
2. Criticizing the characters using extreme labels like “whore” = OKAY TOO but you risk not being taken seriously.
3. Personal attacks against the actors = NOT OKAY.
4. If you expect SGU to be SG-1 or Atlantis, you’ll be disappointed.
5. If you want people to respect your opinion, make the effort to respect contrary opinions as well.
Finally – my bad. As poster J. pointed out, I did my argument a disservice by using the term “idiot” (when “idiotic” would have been more appropriate). J., you’re absolutely right. That was idiotic of me (or, if you prefer, I was an idiot).
To everyone who was inquiring about Maximus’s condition (my pug pictured in the banner), he is recovering nicely from minor surgery and should have his stitches out sometime next week. Check out the makings of a nasty scar that the will drive the bitches wild back at doggy daycare.
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