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or read the transcript below:
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Life, actually…
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THE HALLOWEEN THAT ALMOST NEVER WAS BUT COULD HAVE BEEN
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I’m meandering the ever-changing aisles of a bargain chain store after work, trolling for Halloween candy with which to bribe any would-be evildoers who appear on our porch on The Night.
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Since we live in Norman Bates’ mother’s house, a beautiful 120-year-old carpenter gothic dwelling that fits us like an old shoe, I am constantly aware that we may or may not see trick-or-treaters this week.
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Some years, the ‘hood is too bereft of children and too daunting to parents who are afraid to drive down an unfamiliar street situated in the heart of the far past.
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Other years, parents are brave and adventuresome and bring their kids to see what’s what, in a community that just might nourish ghosts and notions about ghosts.
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This makes my discount store task easy. Just in case nobody rings the bell this year, I stock up on goodies that Liz and I won’t mind having around—stuff we ourselves like.
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I pick up a bag of candy corn, but it tastes of Clorox and a bit of staleness, so I’ll have to find another brand in another place on another day.
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I get Reese’s Cups for Liz so that I can always tell from her peanut butter breath when she’s been into the stash. I buy a dark chocolate goodie because she loves that stuff. I pick up some small candy bars mixed together in a variety pack and try not to eat all the Mounds Bars on the way home.
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By Halloween, we’ll be all set for the kids. I’m dressed as the weird-looking bearded geezer I am, just to play along—for me, it’s a come-as-you-are Halloween event. Liz dresses like the smiling and sweet and always-interested-in-kids person she is—she’s ready to play all year long.
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Will the Munchkins come and will we see our fair share of Star Wars characters and princesses and zombie dudes and Bat Man midgets, or will we be sick to our stomachs by trick time, having eaten all that candy ourselves?
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Even wizards and dragons and bump-in-the-night creatures don’t know for sure.
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Stay tuned
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© Jim Reed 2025