A Halloween Story
But Halloween and Christmas … BRING IT ON. I will go out of my way, and out of my budget, to crush anyone who tries to out decorate me. Crush them HARD.
At the beginning of October, I started by placing a spider pumpkin holder outside my front door. It was awesome. It was unique. It was so ME.
One week later, my new neighbors put a similar (but of course, not as awesome) spider pumpkin holder outside THEIR door. Along with 12, tiny little pumpkins scattered around it.
I stopped in my tracks when I saw it. My eyes were wide, my breath grew shallow, and I started to shake as my hands folded into fists of fury.
OH I DON’T THINK SO, BITCHES.
Apparently they didn’t get the memo. I am the Queen of Halloween. I am the Queen of Christmas too, but we will address that later. You are not to try to “one up” my decorations at any time, for fear of a war being waged upon you that would make the most hardened soldier piss his skivvies.
It wasn’t just that they put Halloween decorations outside their door. A lot of people do that, and I let them go in peace because usually their decorations suck compared to mine. It’s that these people – these INFIDELS – COPIED me, and then blatantly tried to one-up me (or 12-up me) by adding these tiny little pumpkins to the mix. It was the equivalent of putting a horse head in my bed.
I started to formulate plans for revenge. Maybe I would kidnap one of those tiny pumpkins each day, and return them the next as a little tiny pie. Maybe I’d outline each of the little fuckers in crime scene tape and then pour a bucket of fake blood over them. Maybe I would just put knives in all their little tiny heads. All I knew is that the longer I stood there, doing nothing, the more I could hear their tiny little pumpkin voices laughing at me, mocking me. THEY HAD TO BE STOPPED.
I texted my friends and family to tell them I may be hard to reach for awhile as I was about to embark on a covert operation. The ones who know me well took this as a bad sign, and tried to talk me out of it.
“They have kids, you don’t want to scare them,” was one argument.
Boo hoo, like that’s ever stopped me before.
“If they complain, you could be evicted.” Okay, well that is a legitimate concern. But how would they know it was me? I didn’t just fall off the pumpkin-murdering truck yesterday. I knew how to cover my tracks.
Then, a mastermind of manipulation told me this: “So you are saying that you can’t one-up THEM, and admitting defeat by taking out their decorations instead?”
What? Noooooooo! Of course I can one-up them! I could out decorate them with both hands tied behind my back and a blindfold on! Don’t be ridiculous!
My fiendish friend’s words worked. I would bring my neighbors to their knees not by violence, but by sheer decorating BRILLIANCE!
I started going to all the familiar department stores in search of Halloween garb. But alas, most places had been cleared out and their Halloween displays replaced by reindeer and snowmen.
I found one light up skeleton flamingo that was a display item and snatched it up like it was the last bottle of tequila on a bar cart. I didn’t realize it needed to be plugged in, and I didn’t have an outlet outside my door. FOILED AGAIN! But I would not be defeated. Besides, the skeleton would look good on my balcony, as a warning to my other neighbors not to cross me.
My friends became more concerned about my obsessive behavior. “Do we need to talk about this?” one asked.
“Only if you know where I can get a generator to power five mechanical zombies,” I replied.
I turned to the internet, purchasing shaking skeleton lights and a three piece zombie set. In the meantime, I added a giant skull and gnarled pumpkin to my outdoor display, and scattered spiders around my door. Take THAT, bitches!
Then it happened. I came home to find one of their tiny pumpkins sitting by my door. A peace offering, perhaps? Or was this a little tiny pumpkin spy? A Trojan squash?
But something happened to me in that moment. That little pumpkin touched my tiny black heart and made it grow two sizes that day.
Some people were skeptical. “How do you know it isn’t one of your friends fucking with you?” one person asked. After all, my neighbors knew nothing of my diabolical plot. Plus, my friends DO like to fuck with me. But I wasn’t about to ignore the possibility that this was a genuine Halloween miracle.
I had an extra spider decoration in my closet. I took it out, and laid it carefully by my neighbor’s door. It seemed like the right thing to do.
The next day, the spider was hanging up outside their door, similarly to how I had hung mine. Maybe it’s true, I thought. Maybe imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. And maybe my neighbors were helping me be a better Queen of Halloween – pushing me to greatness beyond what I had imagined.
I can hardly wait for Christmas!