Here we are on Hallowe'en Eve, preparing for the big day tomorrow and eyeing the candy bowl as if it might sprout legs and run away. I love this time of year, and I love this holiday. No, I do not worship Satan or his minions, I do not sacrifice chickens, and I do not wear black nail polish and eyeliner. I just love all that goes with this time of year. I love crisp, cool days. I love the smell of wood burning. I love the smells of apples and cinnamon and pumpkin. I also love the prospect of being scared without being fearful, if that makes sense. At this time of year, we can watch scary movies – our hearts can pound and our palms can sweat – and when the movie's over we can turn off the TV or walk out of the theater and step seamlessly back into our decidedly not-so-scary lives.
You want fear? Try this on for size. The phone rings in the middle of the night. Your long-lost white-trash cousin whom you haven't seen for years just happens to be "passing through," and he's calling to make sure you're home before he pulls in the drive. When he does (about 5 seconds later) you see that he, his common law wife and their 7 kids are piling out of the trailer on wheels. Suitcases, boxes and trash bags filled with clothes come next. Now…that pregnant pause as you stand there staring at cuz and his clan? THAT's scary. When he starts to ask questions about Georgia's extradition laws, that's scary too.
At least Michael Myers drops in, does his business and leaves as quietly as he arrived. If he were white trash, he'd first ask to "borrow" your best knife, you know that high-end baby you bought at Williams-Sonoma that cost you an arm and a leg (no pun intended)? He'd then open your refrigerator and drink all of your beer, even if you just had one that you were saving for later. After he was done carving up you and your family, he'd either steal the knife or damage it beyond repair, leaving it in the sink for you to wash. Oh, and he'd go through everyone's pockets to see what he could help himself to. If he finished his dirty work in time, he'd stop by the free health clinic to pick up his illegal prescription narcotics, then go home and wait for his government check (senseless, violent murders really do a number on your back). Monday is the first of the month, you know.