By Kellie “Decapitated” Head
Halloween: Bah humbug! There, I’ve said it. I’ve never been able to make sense of this holiday. Children dress up like complete idiots and panhandle door-to-door, while teen-aged hoodlums hone their purse snatching skills by stealing the hard-earned haul of the younger trick-or-treaters.
Where’s the logic in this tradition? Do children really need a year supply of candy in one night? Where was the American Dental Association when blueprints for this holiday were being drawn? Still, it’s the stressed-out, PMS-crazed mothers of the land who most need these sugar-packed freebies anyway. Why not gear the Halloween ritual toward them, and force the kids to stay home and answer the infernal ring of the doorbell.
After decades of life experience, adults can make better use of this batty holiday, anyway. Instead of returning home with a bag full of tooth decay waiting to happen, we’d trick-or-treat for things we regularly acquire at Wal-Mart.
Move over Sweet Tarts, assorted sized batteries make a bigger impact on my treat list. Somehow we always forget to purchase them before the batteries-not-included nightmare on Christmas morning. Santa Claus makes an ideal scapegoat for this type of mix-up, but the kids are getting older and are sure to wise up.
Extra tubes of super glue could replace glutinous bubble gum as the substance most likely to repair the broken arm on the red Power Ranger. Tim “the tool man” Taylor has nothing on my kids in the Mr. Fix-it department. I once discovered the use of a partially eaten Tootsie Roll to mend the decapitated head of Malibu Barbie. I’m not sure how the accident occurred, but Malibu Ken is still not talking.
A backlog of dental floss would also come in handy. My daughter and her friends keep confiscating ours both cinnamon and mint flavored — to make dream catchers that they intend to peddle at craft bazaars and garage sales. I suppose there might be a market sweet smelling decorations that also prevent gingivitis.
Replacement remote controls top my list of wants. Ours mysteriously disappears into the framework of the couch, after the kids channel surf through Saturday morning cartoons every week. Although I’ve tried hiding the remote from them, I’m lucky if it remains hidden for the full two-minute commercial break during an episode of Rugrats on Nick-at-Nite. Kids seem to have built-in homing devices that enable them to locate anything purposely hidden from them.
While I’m out, maybe I could procure a low interest mortgage loan or a competitive long distance calling plan that doesn’t require naming names in front of a Senate Investigating committee.
Antibiotics are another example of what my house is frequently out of, but always in need of. Picking up an extra bottle or two while making my treat-or-treating rounds seems convenient. I may need to journey over to the posh subdivisions, where the pediatricians and general practitioners live, in order to score the really good stuff, though.
Then again, why should I be the one parading around in some crazy get-up while begging fellow block members for things I’m going to need again in a week, anyway? The best solution might be to simply send the kids out with a list of demands… er… wants. I’d like to see them return home with things like manners, straight teeth and good grades maybe even all the hats and gloves they’ve lost over the years.
If that goes well, next year I’ll aim higher. That list might include a pre-approved VISA gold card, a full scholarship to MIT or a 1999 Volvo wagon with tilt wheel and rear defrost.
While I’m reinventing this holiday, I’ll go all out and add Mel Gibson to the list. For him, I’d dress up like Little Bo Peep and look forward to the begging.
