Man, this was one of the most apathetic Halloweens ever. I was trying to keep in good spirits because historically, this has always been my favorite holiday but it felt like no one was in the mood. I mentioned this previously, but Chooch was just like *hands in the sky* as far as costume ideas went.
(Maybe he should have been the Cure’s “Edge of the Deep Green Sea” PROPS IF YOU GET THAT REFERENCE.)
Finally the night before, he texted me when I was still at work because of course I was late shift the night before Halloween and not home jerryrigging together some elaborate costume for him because he is TWELVE NOW AND I AM SUPPOSED TO NOT BE CARING ABOUT THIS SHIT ANYMORE. So he texts me and says he’s going to be One-Punch Man and: “I need yellow pants, a yellow jacket, a bald cap, and red boots and gloves.”
“Oh and a cape.”
UM, THE FUCK YOU DO.
By the time I came home from work, it was 8PM. Still no decision. I was like, “DON’T CARE DON’T CARE DON’T CARE” because I am retired.
But ugh, I felt bad for him because he was struggling and I know that this could potentially be his last time trick-or-treating, who knows, so I sat there and secretly brainstormed about relevant things, and “Hereditary” popped into my head because we watched that last month and loved it so I showed him a picture of Peter as King Paimon and he was like, “YES. YES, THAT IS THE WINNER.”
And it was so easy! All I had to do was pull Henry out of bed and send him to Burger King for a crown (“I can’t just walk in and ask for a crown,” he mumbled, trying to get out of it. “THEN ORDER AN ICED TEA, MOTHER FUCKER” I yelled, and he was on his way.) which we then spray painted gold (always have gold spray paint on hand, have you SEEN my house?).
Right before Chooch left the house yesterday for trick-or-treating, Henry bandaged his nose and I thickened his eyebrows and gave him a mole.
THAT WAS IT. BYE NOW.
This was almost as easy as the Kevin Bacon costume, and definitely cheaper! Plus, Chooch’s friend Trevor said it was an amazing idea for a costume, and this may have been the first time ever that someone Chooch’s actual age knew what he was supposed to be. So that was another win.
(Although I still think the one Top 40 song title idea I had for this year would have been good but BLAKE made me question it. MAYBE ANOTHER TIME.)
Since Chooch is way beyond the age where it’s acceptable for MOMMY to tag along, this was my first year staying home and passing out candy since he was born, you guys. (I stayed home last year too but I didn’t pass out candy because I got drunk off soju instead and pouted.)
(And the only reason I still went with him two years ago was because he was Bullet with Butterfly Wings and could barely see where he was going, so he needed parental helpers with him.)
Sorry, I get distracted by thoughts.
Earlier that day, I had walked to CVS to get candy. There were signs that said some of the candy was Buy 1 Get 1 (in Korea, they call that 1+1 so that’s what I say in my head when I see dumb American BOGO signs) but the date said 10/27 so I decided not to chance it and only grabbed one, plus a bag of some other not-on-sale assortment. When I got in line, I noticed that there were more displays of the 1+1 candy, so I decided I would inquire about the validity once I got to the register.
And then I saw it was the weird, probable Meth-head lady who started several months ago and she has ZERO personality, like even less than me, so negative personality I guess, and she just makes me feel extremely uncomfortable.
(Or, as Chooch’s neighbor friend would say, “uncomfy.”)
And she’s kind of dumb too. There, I said it.
But still, I pressed my luck and asked, “Is that buy one get one candy sale still good for today even though the date on it says 10/27?”
She looked at me like I was the one on the Meth.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
I reiterated my question, this time making large gestures and using smaller words.
She seemed to understand now.
“Oh, no. That’s…..no, that’s not,” she slurred.
So she started ringing up my candy.
“Oh, this one is buy one get one, so you can go get another if you want,” she said to me, in a tone that did not imply at ALL that we had previously discussed this.
I just looked at her and then slowly said, “Yeah, that’s what I was asking you.”
“Oh, I didn’t know what you were asking,” she said, staring at me blankly.
?!??!?! Isn’t this like Basic Cashier 101?!
There was a line behind me now so I quickly ducked out of line and grabbed another bag of candy from the big 1+1 display.
“Oh, it has to be the same kind,” she said BUT DOES IT THO?! It was the same price, from the same display, part of the same sale!?
Again, there was a line so I just sighed and grabbed a second bag of glow-in-the-dark-wrapper Kit Kats as quickly as possible because fuck it all, man. I hate shopping.
There is no big ending to this story, I was just thinking about it and how annoyed I was when some choosy girl picked one of the Kit Kits out of the bowl last night and I swear to god DISGUSTEDLY asked me what kind it was and I wanted to be like HEMLOCK but I just sweetly told her that it was regular with a special wrapper SHIT OR GET OFF THE POT, HONEY.
Because when that happened, it made me start thinking about my annoying time in CVS all over again and it’s just a vicious cycle!
Anyway, I was excited for like a second to hand out candy last night since it’s been so long since I last did this. I got my first customer before it was even 5:30, like slow down little ma’am, you know? But then she turned out to be Asian so I was like “HERE HAVE 5 SNICKERS AND AN INVITATION TO BE MY LITTLE SISTER.”
Sorry, that was creepy.
I quickly remembered that I’m not a huge fan of kids though so this was a good acting challenge for me. I thought I was doing SUPER good but Henry, who was being a couch spectator, sneered at me and said I sounded fake as hell, especially when some dumb kid fell on my porch and I asked him, apparently in Robot Staccato, if he was OK.
OK, I admit that portion of the night was pretty fucking awkward.
And I never once asked anyone who they were supposed to be because I didn’t care, not even a little.
The kids were few and far in between, but I performed a spirited variation of the Running Man while waiting.
“This is my ‘waiting for trick or treaters’ dance,” I said to Henry.
“Then you’re going to be doing that a lot,” Henry mumbled, because our street hardly ever gets trick-or-treaters.
I diligently paused my K-Drama every time I saw someone approaching – I had the front door open because it was warm last night. This was mostly fine except for this one time when I saw someone coming so I jumped up and grabbed the bowl just as the person had reached my porch and was straight peering into my house.
I opened the door and thrust the bowl at him, but he waved me off and said, “Oh I’m sorry, I have the wrong house. I’m looking for my aunt” and as he turned to leave, Henry said to me, “Why would you think that was a trick-or-treater? He was an adult. HE HAD A BEARD.”
I’M SORRY, MY EYES ARE BAD AND MY HOPES ARE HIGH.
I told some little bitch to take two and she took like 6 and I was starting to get angry when I realized two things:
- I was STILL going to have like 90 pieces of candy left over;
- She probably was below counting-age.
My last customers had very deep voices. I don’t know what they were dressed as, but they definitely had costumes on and they were very polite to me. I dumped fistfuls into their reusable Trader Joe’s shopping bags and as I came back in the house, Henry incredulously asked, “Were those guys your age?!”
I just shrugged. Who cares. They were in costume and said trick or treat, so they broke no HalloLaw in my book. YOU KNOW!?
Meanwhile, Henry was like where is our son, because it was past 7:30.
I joked and said he was probably at the Teen Center because that’s always the best guess. A few minutes later, Chooch came stumbling through the door around 8, like someone’s dad coming home from the war. It was super dramatic. He flung his sugar-swollen pillowcase over his shoulder and onto the chair and started jawing off about this house and that house, and taking a different route, and losing the neighbor kid on purpose because he didn’t want to get stuck with the kid’s weird stepdad, and now he had no one to hold him back, and then he went to the Teen Center—
“KNEW IT!” I cried.
“Well, my bandaids were coming off and I went there to get new ones!” he yelled in defense.
As usual, mostly no one knew who he was supposed to be, and he said a lot of people were concerned that his nose-injury was real. He was proud of that.
He also went to Coco’s house! Remember the dog we helped catch over the summer and it was a super big deal even though Henry doesn’t believe that it was because he was too busy at home, sleeping? Well the owners of Coco recognized Chooch and in addition to his candy, they gave him a pencil and a ruler which I think they just randomly grabbed from a junk drawer so that Chooch would feel rewarded.
Well, it worked, because he was so excited to show us.
Who knew King Paimon was such a dork.
And then Chooch and I watched the finale of last season’s The Walking Dead (#omg) so all in all, not the worst Halloween.
Still, I hope Chooch marries someone who won’t get in my way when it comes to being a Halloween Costume Grandma, because I STILL HAVE IDEAS.