Story time, y’all.
I was telling my kids about my childhood the other day. How during the summer, my brother and I would leave the house on our bikes, end up at a random neighborhood friends house, and check in at home when we were hungry, tired, hot, or when it was dark (and then, only if we hadn’t received permission to play Spotlight). Or, everyone would come to our house, bring every G.I. Joe toy they had, and set up an immense battle on our screened-in back porch. Or we’d traipse through the woods behind my house, battling unseen warriors trying to infiltrate our base of operations and the twigs and sticks therein.
It was a different time. And, should the following scenario be attempted today, I fear the litigiousness that would arise. The facts are these…
Halloween was a grand affair. Plastic costumes and candy by the bagful. My family did not shy away from the festivities, as conservative as we were.
One year, I was a little too old to go out. So, my friend next door, Josh, and I decided to hand out candy at his house. We formulated our plan. I set up my keyboard near his front door and played the theme to “Halloween” as kids approached. He met the kids at the door in him Michael Myers mask (he was the kid on the street that always got the newest and best toys). The kids got a look at him in the mask, got a little scare, got a laugh, got some candy, and walked away.
And that’s when the hockey masked freak with the chainsaw appeared.
Nope. Not kidding.
Our plan was multi-faceted, you see. Josh’s dad dressed up in his coveralls, took the chain off the saw, put on the hockey mask, and hid in the bushes until the kids walked away from the door.
Some kids jumped. Some kids laughed. Some kids cried. Some parents, um, took exception to the tactics.
All in all, not a bad night.
Not a Camouflaged Soul 