The seasons are a wonderful thing…at least, they are for people lucky enough to live in locations that experience them. I’m not saying I do or don’t, but I am saying I appreciate the work Mother Nature puts into giving a little predictable variety to the weather each year. Freeze people out in the winter, warm them up slowly in the spring, cook ‘em for the summer, and then ease them back into the freezer with the comforting delights of the most pleasant season of all: autumn…or fall, if you’re on that side of the fence.
Who doesn’t love autumn? Crappy people with no souls, if you ask me.
I do love autumn.
I love the idea of huge trees transitioning from what is for many of them often a monochromatic green to a dazzling array of yellows, oranges, and reds. It’s like they artistically set themselves on fire, minus the destruction and fear real fire can bring.
And the mild temperatures? Don’t even get me started! There’s nothing quite like kicking a swelteringly hot summer out on its ass by getting to enjoy some frosty mornings where a leisurely cup of coffee on the terrace is still an option, provided you wrap yourself up in a cozy cardigan and maybe a pair of those trendy fingerless gloves the silly hipsters wear.
And pumpkin? I love pumpkin! And unlike some of the other cynics out there, I appreciate and value the fact that pumpkins (including fake pumpkin flavoring) have quite literally taken the entire season hostage and forced themselves onto and into everything. They’re like the terrorists of the food world, but they’re fabulous. I eat pumpkin pie. I enjoy pumpkin creamer. I delight in a fresh pumpkin scone. I adore pumpkin mac and cheese. I shovel in pumpkin ice cream. I chomp down on pumpkin gum (or I would, if I could find it).
I seriously love pumpkin. How much? So much that I can’t even watch Cinderella without getting a little frustrated with her for getting all sad-faced and devastated when her crystal coach turned back into a giant pumpkin…which, let’s just be honest, mostly happened because she didn’t have a watch. She was lamenting the loss of her man when she could have been making one hell of a holiday pie.
Perspective, Cindy. It all worked out for you anyway. You got your man. You got your castle.
You know for whom it didn’t work out? The guy who had his arm ripped off by a killer clown who then fed the bloody appendage to a demon child with an insatiable appetite for violence and flesh.
At least, that’s what I gathered while walking through our local Halloween store this weekend…with my mother!
Maybe I’m a faint-hearted, yellow-bellied chicken of a man. Maybe I just don’t get the true spirit of the Halloween season, but I ask you, friends:
What the hell is going on with Halloween?
I walked into this store genuinely expecting to see a selection of costumes (maybe some with a little blood and gore), some nice home décor items (I was thinking bone candlesticks, or maybe some plush black cats), and perhaps a selection of candy for me to binge eat in bed like a crack addict. In other words, the usual.
As a side note, my mother and I had just finished shopping at the Christmas ornament debut event at Hallmark. Christmas ornaments! Hallmark!
So, what did we see in this Halloween house of horrors? Well, from what I could glimpse through my fingers…
–A hanging clown in a bloody body bag twitching spastically to escape
–A “gruesome granny” holding a demon baby covered in blood
–A giant jumping spider that literally leapt from the ground with its spring-loaded base and came about three inches from my face
–A section called The Sanitarium, where there was a man being electrocuted to death, another man being decapitated, and, of course, the zombie child I referenced in my title, happily chowing down on bloody human flesh
–Demon baby dolls with blood dripping out of their eyes and mouths
–Ground up meat and body parts packaged like the butcher section at the grocery store
Oh, and one more thing. When we walked in, my sweet mother, who I’ll just tell you is prone to nightmares if someone raises their voice, let alone if they eat someone else’s face, looked over to me, horrified, and said, “I really don’t like this store, sweetheart. I’m sorry to be so silly about this, and I know it’s not real, but, just so you know, when my friends took me to see The Exorcist in college by telling me it was going to be The Sound of Music, I didn’t speak for seven days and needed four years of therapy.”
“Seriously?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied softly. “The Exorcist is the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen. Ever.”
So, naturally, we turned to the left and saw—not kidding—an animatronic recreation of Linda Blair herself from The Exorcist, rising slowly from the ground while her head performed its signature devilish spin.
And I’m only being honest when I tell y’all that my genuine response at that moment, which also included having a possessed dog jump at us just like the spider a minute earlier, was to scream:
“Fucking damnable shit cakes!”
Sooo…two things about that:
1) Sorry for the language. Apparently, when faced with a frightening, unbelievable scenario, my natural reaction is to spew out every profane word I can conjure up, with no comprehensible sentence construction required.
2) I…you know, actually, I don’t have a second thing. I’m just sorry. Again. Not a well-handled situation, for sure.
Needless to say, to save my mother from another week of life as a mute, we promptly left the store. I apologized profusely. My mother said it was fine, and that it was totally normal for her to be slapping the side of her head while muttering, “happy place, happy place, happy place.”
In the end, I don’t think there was any permanent damage to us. But society? Well, that’s a discussion for another day. I’m all for Halloween fun, but I’m definitely not in the target market of people who seem almost too happy to board the train to Gore Town each year. To each their own, of course, but if your “own” includes bloody babies and ground human flesh, my “own” is to be anywhere you aren’t. That’s it. You’re not my crowd. I’ll take my bag of candy and my Peanuts Halloween special, thank you very much.
And if you’re curious about where we went right after escaping the terrifying Halloween store, it was to the only logical place:
The Disney Store.
And can you guess what we found there?
Life has a way of tying things together, doesn’t it? It’s almost…scary.
Happy Halloween, y’all!