I love Halloween. I really do. I love the candy, the dressing up, the bad movies, everything. I miss the mischief I used to get into once I got to be teenager. One year there were numerous reports of me and my friends shenanigans in the police blotter the next day, but we didn't get caught. Thank god cause I can't imagine the amount of property damage we created that fateful hallows eve.
The strangest thing that happened to me on Halloween was when I was living in Bellingham. I came home after a Halloween party and found my pumpkin was smashed all over my porch. Being extremely drunk I decided to wait until the next day to clean the mess.
The next morning I came out to the porch to find the pumpkin and it's remains were gone. The whole porch was clean. 'Ye gods' I thought. Did I just imagine the whole event? Did someone actually break the squash like vegetable only to have the Great Pumpkin come by and do his magic and take the smashed remains up to Veggie Tales heaven? Maybe someone just felt bad about doing it and cleaned it up later. I'll never know the mystery that is the short life of my busted pumpkin.
"Where there is no imagination there is no Horror." - Arthur Conan Doyle, Sr.