Losing my head at Halloween
Im not sure which is scarier facing the temptation of the 12-plus pounds of Halloween candy currently cached in my closet or running out of it early on Halloween night.Frankly, my household was woefully unprepared for the onslaught of trick-or-treaters who showed up on our doorstep when Halloween arrived shortly after we moved in, a year ago. I thought seven bags of candy was overkill; instead, it was gone in less than two hours and we spent the rest of the evening huddled in the darkness, hoping sugar-crazed Power Rangers wouldn’t take us for cheap curmudgeons and paper our tree.To be honest, I had no idea we’d actually have trick-or-treaters last year, having spent 10 years on Aspen’s east side, where absolutely no one came to my door. Ever.The difference, I suppose, is people actually live in Blue Lake.Apparently, we reside at the epicenter of tooth decay. Our normally quiet street was flooded with roving bands of ninjas, Spidermans, Harry Potters, fairy princesses and SpongeBobs, not to mention cars. Parents were driving their kids from miles around, just to send them scurrying up to our porch, lamely decorated with a forlorn, flickering jack-o’-lantern. The only thing scary about our house were the two dogs barking themselves hoarse inside. Some kids started to turn around, halfway up the walk, given the ferocious sounds emanating from inside, until I slipped out the front door with the candy bowl while the dogs’ keeper strained to hold tight to their collars.By the time we meekly pulled our pumpkin inside and turned off the lights, I vowed things would be different the next time Halloween rolled around. I was appalled with our lackluster effort, especially given the eerie sounds and lights emanating from a few of our neighbors’ houses. I can easily lose my head when it comes to Halloween.This year, we’ll have more candy at the ready, more jack-o’-lanterns, and some cobwebs and spiders on the porch. Maybe a black light, too, and a little surprise hiding in the bushes.I’ve had a whole year to plot, which is why I’ve only now just started.I’m rethinking my elaborate plan to sit on a chair in a cloud of fog (dry ice in a bucket beneath the seat) though, as it might actually leave me choking, if my costume doesn’t.I’m going to be the headless butler, which means my actual head is tucked inside a rubber mask that’s supposed to resemble the stump of a neck. Why two prominent eye holes would be cut in a butler’s neck is beyond me, but if I tuck the holes way down inside the collar of my butler’s jacket and tie, it looks sorta cool and I can just barely peer out of the getup. Of course, I’ll be fumbling around like I’m blind, but that would make sense, with my head gone and all. The neck wound isn’t nearly grisly enough, though. I’m going to get some fake blood to spruce it up.And maybe a protruding weapon while I’m at it.I think I’ve lost my head already.It’s spooky, how fond Janet Urquhart is of Halloween. If you’ve got any suggestions, send them to her at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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