Judy P's Tickle Trunk

..or This is Not a Memoir.

Halloween is done for another year, thank heavens. Here is the order of events in my home in chronological order:

8:00 am: awaken and think “damn. It’s Halloween.” Wonder if I should do some more decorating. The pumpkins which had graced my front doorstep for three weeks made their way up the road on Saturday night, in the hands of hooligans. One of them is in pieces by someone’s driveway post, the other creamed into the pavement next to the house which used to have chickens. It was all I could do not to collect the broken chunks and bring them home to make pumpkin bread (but then I recalled the time I had eaten a dab of peanut butter out of a cracked bottle which was lying on the pavement where Mrs. Spracklin had accidentally dropped it out of her grocery bag and after I had swallowed it Keith said “I peed on that.” So I left the broken pumpkin to rot where it lay.)

3:00 pm: we repair the light bulb over the front door so we won’t get sued by the parents of fallen trick or treaters. How many Milton-ites does it take to change a light-bulb? Not just a simple twist of the wrist I’m afraid. This involved a step ladder, WD40, a fixture hanging on its last legs, 2 bulbs, needle-nose pliers, moral support and two of my less than favourite swear words. Mission accomplished but I require a nap and a beverage when it is done.

4:00 empty 80 miniature chocolate bars into an orange plastic pail and set it by the front door. Doesn’t look at all appetizing. I resist the temptation to rush in to town to the pharmacy to buy another bag of treats in case I should run out. Decide that should that happen, we will turn out the lights and cower in the darkness as the eggs and rocks bounce off the front door. In Nfld. it was not uncommon to get your clothesline cut if you didn’t give out treats.

5:30 I am knitting and hear the rumble of plastic wheels on pavement; those Little Tykes wagons are louder than a gravel crusher. I ready myself for the knock. Instead I hear shrill voices: “Knock. Go on, Knock on the door. Go on” then a teeny tiny tap. I whisk open the door to see the back of the head of a tiny, I think, fairy (I’m not familiar with any Disney characters beyond the Little Mermaid) who has turned to receive further instructions from her chaperones. She is not much taller than a fire hydrant and as round as a pumpkin with her winter clothes under her costume. She is carrying a huge grocery bag. “Say trick or treat” she is instructed but by now she is busy petting the Dollar Store black cat with the glittery fur. Then she looks up, beams angelically and opens wide the mouth of her grocery sack. I drop in some chocolate. “Say thank you” she is told. “Come on , say thank you. You have to say thank you”. Instead she says “Do you have a kitty?” From the street “yeah, there’s the kitty, pet the kitty, go on. Come on now. Go on, pet it. Come on.” No doubt confused by the comes and goes, she glances perfunctorily at the stuffed cat and repeats “Do you have a kitty?” “Yes” I tell her but her mother has finally gotten her attention and in a swirl of green fringed gown, her shopping bag swinging out at an angle which stresses the handles to the maximum (thank heavens she only has a few candy in it yet), she rushes back to tell her chaperones about the house with the cat. It is then I realize that she had probably seen Baxter and Sammie peering out the door from behind me. Sammie, with his curious flat face, probably looked less real than the decorative Dollar Store cat.

5:40 bar cats in kitchen. Nothing they would like more than a night on the town. The chocolate continues to look unappetizing.

6:00 to 7:00 a slow straggle of assorted characters. Mostly smaller kids. My neighbour Andrew hides behind the doorframe and leaps out with a baseball bat as I open the door. When my heart settles I give him some treats. He confesses that he doesn’t have to work too hard at Halloween  because all the neighbours give him their left-overs. I tell him “I’m eating mine” even though they don’t look at all appetizing.

7:00 – 7:30 the bigger kids now. My favourite is a Minnie Mouse with a huge sparkly satin pink bow. I love it when siblings come. A young pair arrives, he about 5, she 8. She is dazzling in a kind of Vampirella red and black dress and perfect ghoulish make-up. She gives me an evil smile as he chirps “Trick or treat”. “Beautiful costume” I tell her and she beams. The little fellow gazes at her for a second with open mouthed admiration then stretches up an inch or two as he says enthusiastically “I’m Superman!!!” All I can think to say is “Yes. Yes you are”. He is apparently happy with that. I return to my knitting, still smiling. Later two brothers, one a young teen the other about six. The elder is obviously embarrassed by his younger brother; his “Trick or Treat” is delivered like it is the first time he ever got to say it and he seems astounded when I give him a treat. He gushes a genuine “Wow” when I drop another little Mr. Big into his pillowcase. His thank you would have been appropriate had I given him a new Lexus, next year’s model, but his older brother just sighs and sags a little from the burden of having to share the night with such a keener. He should be grateful that it was his brother’s excitement which got him not one, but two, unappetizing miniature chocolate bars.

7:30 we dine on Lance’s delicious chicken cutlets in the living room. I only have to leave my plate three times to go to the door. A healthy yoghurt for dessert.

7:50 I decide I am in the mood for a Coffee Crisp. I nibble. Only mildly disappointing. Sweet. A nice light snack. I rip the wrapper off another and eat it in two bites, then eat another in one bite. I hide the wrappers under the bowl and go back to my knitting.

8:00 – 9:00 the last of the stragglers. The bowl has only gone down half-way. Suddenly like a desert-crawler at an oasis I am ripping wrappers off chocolate bars and stuffing them in my mouth, my shaking hands just barely keeping up with the swallowing. Chewing is at this point not in my physical vocabulary.

10:20 I receive a text from my sister: “Drove all the way from Clarenville, did my jackolantern, hung my flashing skeleton, put on my costume and only got 10 kids!!!!!” After I stopped wondering what a skeleton could flash if he had no fleshy body parts I responded “and I just ate 10 chocolate bars. Halloween sucks.” Here is the continued conversation. She: Methinks that most of the treats are eaten by the parents anyway. Maybe that is the master plan. Me: My kids used to itemize and document their treats so that I couldn’t steal any. I got them back by giving them stale treats in their Christmas stockings. She: Lmfao Me: I’m shocked. Lance knew what Lmfao meant!!! (I didn’t and had to have it explained) She: Facebook speak Me: I thought it was auto-correct. She: I just ate two more snickers bars. I can’t help myself. Me: Coffee Crisp anyone? Ooooh, Mr. Big!!!!! She: Just one more… just one more…just one more…….Me: She’s gonna blow. I feel unwell (all the while still eating candy) She: I’m going to freeze the rest but not sure if that will stop us. Me: you may have just invented the perfect hot flash cure (frozen chocolate) She: think we could patent it? Me: yes, along with muumuus with refrigerated pockets to hold them.

And there ended my first Halloween living in Milton. I have moved the chocolate bars so that I won’t have to walk by them constantly but not so far that I can’t find them should I need a sugar rush. Maybe I will give them to Andrew after all. And we have the front door light all fixed and ready for Christmas mummers  (Eeek, who said the word Christmas? The scariest part of Halloween is seeing the Halloween decorations all set up right next to the Christmas decorations in the stores). But I don’t suppose we’ll get many Mummers in Milton. I’d better get in a few boxes of Pot of Gold and a bottle of Purity syrup just in case.

(c) Judy Parsons 2013