Halloween Memories--Come and Share The Love

I went up to my dad's house to help him pass out candy to all the lil' buggers during Halloween a few nights ago. My sister, hubby and kids joined us and participated. My niece pretty much took care of the candy bowl the whole night. At one point, the bowl of candy was empty. My niece became worried that we were out. I told her she should pick her nose and offer her boogers as delectable treats, instead. She frowned at that suggestion.

When I was a kid, I had, at different times of Halloween, dressed up as a robot, a ghost, Batman, a vampire and other things. During drunken Halloween parties, years later, I dressed up as a Jamaican man, a genie, a woman, a priest and I forget what else. I've been neglectful on the upkeep of my brain cells.

My first costume, a ghost, was a bad mistake.

It was my first trick-or-treating experience as a wee lad. I was nervous. I had never gone up to a total stranger's door and ask for candy. Nowadays, I would do it with a song in my heart and a lump in my pants. My sweet Auntie Kay, about four years older than I, grabbed my hand and took me on a walking tour of various neighborhoods. She was in a hurry, too. I could tell by the way she dragged me along the sidewalks at a speed that would make a cheetah envious. I don't think she liked the idea of being saddled down with a kid to look after the whole night. Heh heh. Oh well.

Anyhoo, the goddamn ghost bed sheet caused me to have all manner of fits. For one thing, I couldn't see out of it. The goddamn eye holes weren't big enough and were in the wrong place for me to see. Secondly, the sheet was too long. I must have stumbled, because of it, a gazillion times. And I don't know how many occurrences there were of me tripping and falling on some ass hole's overly steep concrete steps.

Damn those concrete steps! Damn them all!

One of the last times I dressed up for Halloween, I went as a priest to another drunken Halloween party. For added kicks, I had a dildo hanging out, over my nether regions, with my costume. Some were shocked. Others, appalled. It was apparent I made some folks uncomfortable. They would give me those "I'm disgusted" glares. Certain females laughed and pointed. I hid my shame by stroking my apparatus and making flirtatious remarks.

Was that okay?

My friend's overly goody-goody christian sisters were there, scowling at me. My shame caused me to take another swallow of beer and think of the different ways I would have enjoyed putting them over my lap and giving them a good once over.

Ah.... memories.