Sometimes being an adult sucks.

There was a time in my life when late October was something I really looked forward to. Forget Christmas, man, because for me Halloween was "the most wonderful time of the year." I loved everything about it--the costumes, the petty vandalism, roaming the streets in the dark, stealing Halloween decorations... oh, and the obscene amounts of free candy was pretty cool, too. When I was a kid, I loved going trick or treating just about better than anything. To tell you the truth, I'd still do it today if I could get away with it. But I started hearing "aren't you a little too old for this?" by the time I was twelve. I can't imagine what people would say today, faced with a 30-year-old trick or treater at their doorstep...

Actually, I think I do know. They'd wait for me to leave, pick up the phone and call the cops on me. ("Hello, police? I think we've got a pervert over here posing as a kid... yeah, he said he wanted some candy, but I think he's more interested in sweet, young female meat. Better bring out the mace and the stun guns.")

I hate most holidays. Hell, I think the word "holiday" is a contradiction--see, I would consider a holiday a day away from work that I can spend anyway I want to. And somehow, spending the entire day with my family hardly constitutes a "day off", at least not in my opinion. Sitting in a room with those people while making strained conversation is NOT worth the free meal I get out of it. Fuck that, I'd rather be at work. At least my co-workers never get pissed at me for never visiting or calling them. What the hell does my family want from me, anyway? I'm a loner!

I wish somebody could explain to me why we're supposed to "outgrow" a great holiday like Halloween. I mean, think about it... nobody's expected to outgrow Thanksgiving, are they? How about Christmas? Easter? Sure, I don't hunt around my apartment for baskets left for me by the fucking Easter bunny anymore, but that doesn't mean I'm "too old" to celebrate the holiday. Halloween is a different story. I suppose you could make the argument that adults can still go out and celebrate Halloween, what with costume parties and all that. But the "fun" element (i.e., trick or treating) is conspicuously missing--the same way Christmas isn't nearly as fun once you realize Santa Claus is a hoax created by parents to trick their bratty kids into behaving. Shit, everything these days is "for the children." Well, allow me to steal a line from George Carlin, if I may; FUCK THE CHILDREN. Why the hell should they get to have all the fun?

The truth is, Halloween just isn't the same anymore. Anybody over the age of 20 can attest to that fact. Think about it--everybody I know says the same thing about Halloween; "There were a lot more kids out trick or treating when I was young." Sad but true, I'm afraid. Think about how many kids you saw trick or treating last year as opposed to when you were a kid yourself. At the rate it's going, in ten years trick or treating will be a thing of the past...

Screw that. I'd rather Halloween be the way I remember it. And if my alcohol-addled brain serves me correctly, this is the way it was;

HALLOWEEN MEMORIES

1) Devil's Night Mayhem

"'Twas the night before Halloween,
And all down the street
Toilet paper was everywhere,
Hanging from the trees."

As some of you may know, I live right near Detroit, otherwise known as the Devil's Night capitol of the world. Back in the 80's, there was some serious shit going down in the city on these fateful evenings. They didn't fuck around with toilet papering trees and soaping windows, though. Nope, Detroiters spent Devil's Night doing what they do best... SETTING THINGS ON FIRE. Seriously, you could look toward the city when it got dark outside and the skyline was practically glowing orange because of all the damn fires. Detroit got a really bad reputation in the eyes of the national press because of this, but I don't think it was warranted. Most of the time, people were just burning down crack houses and abandoned buildings. (With a few cars thrown in as well.) What's wrong with that? Hell, they were providing a service if you ask me! These days, the Detroit media absolutely refuses to use the term "Devil's Night." In a vain attempt to make us all forget about the past, they've renamed October 30th as "Angel's Night." Trust me, this isn't fooling ANYBODY. Of course, there are still fires and all that, but the cops aren't fucking around anymore. God help you if you get caught, because your ass is going to jail. They should lighten the hell up and relax. A little fiery carnage never hurt anybody.

I wasn't setting any fires back then, but I WAS still a sneaky, vandalizing son of a bitch. And the cool thing was, my mother actually allowed it! "I don't mind you kids going out on Devil's Night," she'd say. "But I don't want you throwing eggs or breaking windows."
"I wouldn't do that, mom," I'd tell her with every ounce of sincerity--then I'd go out and egg the shit out of the entire neighborhood. Hey, boys will be boys.

But I didn't take too kindly to getting egged myself. One year, about a week or so before Halloween, I was sitting in my living room with my then-girlfriend when I heard some strange noises outside. There were two distinctive "splat" noises coming from the side of the house. "What the fuck was that?" I wondered, as I ran toward the front door to see what was going on. My question was answered when I saw this guy I knew named Mark running away in the night air, a telltale carton of eggs tucked under his arm. At first I was surprised, because I'd known this guy for a long time and had never had a problem with him. But then, once I saw the egg debris dripping from my aluminum siding, my evil side came out--and in my best Bugs Bunny voice, I rubbed my hands together and said "Of course, you know, THIS means war..."

When Devil's Night arrived, I made my move. After I called my two deviant friends Jason and Mike to tell them what happened, they were only too happy to help me retaliate. They even called this other guy Rob to join in on the fun. (Those guys were fucking nuts. I eventually had to stop hanging out with them--it was either that or turn to a life of crime.) Anyway, the four of us went to Mark's house that night and formed a semi-circle around the perimeter of the property. Then, we proceeded to pelt the house with no less than four dozen eggs.

I often wonder what the onslaught must have sounded like from inside the house. Seriously, man, it must have sounded like a mortar attack or something. At any rate, mid-way throughout the hellish rain of eggs, Mark's father burst out onto the front porch, clad only in his underwear. "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON OUT HERE??" he bellowed... and then, his question was answered when two eggs hit him right square in the middle of his chest. Needless to say, we took off running at that point--but Mark's dad was in hot pursuit, running down the street after us in his tighty whiteys screaming "YOU FUCKING KIDS!!! I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU!!!" It was quite a scene to behold, and I could hardly run because I was laughing too hard to breathe. But a skinny, middle-aged man can only run so fast when he's barefoot, so we were able to hop into the car and escape without a problem.

I couldn't help but notice that Mark wasn't in school the next day, so me and Jason decided to skip fifth hour and drive by his house to check out the aftermath. Sure enough, there was Mark--he was perched on a ladder in his front yard, furiously scrubbing egg yolk with a rag and shivering in the cold. It had been unseasonably cold the previous night, and the eggs had literally frozen solid. We made it a point to honk the horn as we drove past, as well as smile and wave. Later on, we found that in addition to getting a sound beating from his old man, Mark ended up being grounded for two weeks. His dad figured that Mark must have done SOMETHING to deserve the egging... and he was right.

The next night was Halloween, and Mark's punishment continued. Wearing a walrus Halloween mask, I returned to Mark's house that night with my friend Juan. Most of the egg residue was still visible, even in the night air. But I wasn't there to egg him again... no, that would have been mean. (HA HA!) Instead, we waited for a lull in the trick or treaters and sneaked up onto his front porch. They had taken the screen out of the screen door in order to better serve the kids that were trick or treating. Just inside the door was a HUGE bowl of candy, sitting unguarded on a table. The living room was empty, so I quietly reached inside the door, grabbed the bowl and emptied its entire contents into my pillow case. I then replaced the bowl and shouted "THANKS FOR THE CANDY, FUCKNUTS!" before I hauled ass out of there. Before they even knew what him them, we were long gone.

That was all fine and good, but there was a problem.... Juan wanted some candy, too, and I wasn't about to share mine. So we waited a half hour or so and returned to the scene of the crime. The porch light was still on as we crept silently along the side of his house. Once the coast was clear, me and Juan tip-toed back onto the porch a second time and saw that the bowl of candy had been refilled. Incredibly, the living room was empty again--I guess they figured we wouldn't have the balls to strike twice in the space of an hour. They were wrong.

Just like before, I reached inside the door and took the bowl... only this time, I emptied the contents into Juan's pillow case. "GOTCHA AGAIN, ASSBAG!" I yelled into the house. "HAPPY FUCKING HALLOWEEN!!" A few minutes after our escape, Mark's porch light was turned off and the door was closed--much earlier than the rest of the block, I might add. We had picked them clean.

Now, I know what you're thinking... you think I was way too excessive and vindictive. Maybe you're right, but I'll tell you this much; nobody, and I mean NOBODY egged my fucking house ever again.

2) A FEW TIPS FOR TRICK OR TREATING

It's only fair that I share my years of accumulated Halloween wisdom with the youth of today. Keep the dream alive, you little shits!

a) Don't fuck around with small bags or plastic jack o' lanterns to carry your loot in. Only a giant sized pillow case will do.

Look, the whole point of trick or treating is to collect more junk food than you could ever possibly eat. And it takes a long, long time to fill up a pillow case. (Even I've managed to do it only one time.) Besides, you'll need the extra space to bring along your Halloween necessities--things like toilet paper, Silly String and various other items that every vandal needs.

b) Always wear a mask as opposed to makeup.

Yeah, I know masks can get a bit stuffy. But believe me, you're better off keeping your face covered. (It's harder to pick you out of a police lineup that way.) Makeup will only end up running down your face after you start getting sweaty, and besides, every time you get an itch on your face it's a pain in the ass. Listen to Jeremy the Loner, kiddies... he speaks from experience.

c) Pay close attention to what people put into your bag of loot.

Please understand, there's always going to be assholes out there who have no clue as to what Halloween is all about. These are the people that pass out shit like apples, popcorn and pennies. If you happen to be one of these dipshits, STOP IT! If it doesn't rot your teeth or qualify as junk food, it has no business being in a Halloween bag.

So pay attention, kids... if some old lady gives you an apple, thank her kindly, smile... and then throw the apple directly at her fucking house. She'll learn her lesson in a big hurry, trust me. OR... and this is even worse... watch out for those UPTIGHT, SELF-RIGHTEOUS ASSHOLE CHRISTIANS that like to slip scary religious literature into your bag when you aren't looking. These bastards are really sneaky, so it's hard to catch them in the act. But I remember coming home every year and finding this shit in my pillow case, and it really pissed me off. They were always pamphlets with disturbing comics inside, telling you what a sinner you are for celebrating a pagan holiday--and that you would go to hell for doing so. That shit scared me silly when I was little.

Watch out for these fucktards... and should you catch them trying to slip some of their bullshit garbage into your loot, allow them to do it. As soon as you leave the porch, shred the fucking thing into little pieces on their lawn--and then send a shower of rocks toward their front door in retaliation. Don't feel bad about it... these people are trying to ruin your night, so it's only fair that you ruin there's. Fucking hypocritical pricks...

d) When somebody gives you some candy, always ask "may I have some more, please?" No matter what they give you, ask them anyway.

I wish I would have discovered this tip earlier, but I only got to use it one time. It was the last time I ever went trick or treating, way back in 1989. Truthfully, at 15 I was already "too old" for such an activity. But Juan was hanging out at my house that night while I was passing out candy. "Hey man, I thought we were going out trick or treating!" he complained. When I told him I had to pass out candy, he came up with an ingenious idea... every time a cute girl came to the door, he'd clumsily hit on her and empty half the bowl into her bag. Needless to say, I ran out of candy in a big hurry.

I still didn't want to go out trick or treating, but Juan eventually wore me down. "All right, all right," I relented. "We can go to a few houses, but only the ones on my street." Well, one street turned into two... two turned into three, and so on. Before too long, it was almost like old times again.

There was a problem, though--we had gotten started pretty late and time was short. So Juan did something I never would have had the balls to do. At every house we went to, he'd accept his candy and then ask "May we have some more, please?" I realize that it was rude, but I'll tell you something--it fucking worked, every single time. The people would get this stunned look on their face, but they'd always comply. It's like they didn't know what else to do.

Actually, it worked almost every time. At one house, a drunken college guy came to the door--and when Juan asked for more candy, he poked Juan's considerable gut and remarked "You don't NEED more, porky!" He then laughed and shut the door on us. But don't worry, he paid for that remark. In addition to stealing ALL of his Halloween decorations, we fished a few apples from our bags... and chucked them directly at the house, breaking a window or two in the process. AHHHH.... memories!

Happy Halloween, everybody!

-JTL

By the way, thanks to the Rev from www.CompoundGlory.com for doing the rainbow effects on my new picture. (Interesting site he has over there.) I assure you all, the rainbow has NOTHING to do with the Rainbow Coalition or any other gay organization. (Not that there's anything wrong with that...)

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