Drooling on the Pillow

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

I Even Put The Light-Up Spider On The Porch 

We bought our house five years ago and every Halloween I've bought mass quantities of candy to hand out to the neighborhood ghouls.

For the fifth straight year, our doorbell did not ring once. Cripes, I saw them trick-or-treating at the liquor store across the street.

My neighborhood when I was a kid was stuffed with children. Bloated, overflowing. They had to stack us in the woodlot during the summer. My neighborhood now is not like that, but there are some kids. I know; I chase them off my stoop.

Which brings up my fear that my house has acquired a reputation. It's where the crabby old guy lives. I remember him coming out on his porch to yell at us whenever we cut through his yard to the woods behind. He would grab whatever was nearest - a badminton racket, a colander, a box of linguini - to brandish and come out swearing like an Australian sailor. He never came off the porch, though, so we'd continue on to the fort we were building in the woods and discuss the possible meanings of some of the words he'd used. We were way off on most of them and, as a result, some of them confuse me to this day.

Perhaps I'm not the crabby old guy. Most of the kids around here are Indian and maybe they have a religious problem with Halloween. If you know differently, don't tell me.
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