THE SONIC BOOMER
“Trick or Treat! Smell my feet! Give me something good to eat!” If you didn’t read that in a sing-song manner, you have never been a child. And if you have never been a child, you have missed the full glory of Halloween — a holiday that has risen to take its rightful place among “Major Holidays That Spoil Children.”
It’s a day in which kids get to dress up as their idols and demand free candy. That’s called kid nirvana.
This year, with Halloween landing on a Saturday, the holiday is sure to stretch out for the entire weekend. In fact, I’m sure it has started already.
Of course, if you have young children in the house, Halloween began weeks ago when they started bringing paper-bag pumpkins home from school and musing aloud about what costume they were going to wear — a costume you would frantically have to make or buy whether the components were available or not.
At my daughter’s house, Jen had big plans to dress the entire family up as the cast of Labyrinth with herself as Ludo, her hubby Greg as the up/down hands, 3-year-old Skippy as Jareth the Goblin King and the baby as, well, the baby. “It will be the only year they’ll be the right ages!” Jen exclaimed.
Then Skippy announced that he was going to be a ghost.
This not only messed up Jen’s plans, it effectively passed the Halloween torch from parent to child. Of course, he got to choose.
But parents are not about to be denied the fun of Halloween. The allure of fantasy role-playing and free goodies is too great. It must be shared. So a party has to be thrown. If I am invited, I am going to dress as a female grim reaper to promote my new graveyard idea.
This idea came to me while I was dangling over the edge of a rooftop with a rope tied around my waist, in order to paint under the eaves of a house. For some reason, death was on my mind that day. Not that I expected Mark to let go of the other end of the rope… but he could’ve sneezed. So I was deciding what I’d like on my headstone. I decided upon, “Whatever doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.”
Wouldn’t that be funny on a headstone? You could add “oops,” but it’s probably not necessary. Let visitors put two and two together.
This is an awesome plan. Only funny epitaphs would be allowed in my graveyard, so it would be like a stroll through a comedy club. Plus, the air would be fresher. I’m sure some hypochondriac would use, “I told you I was sick.” But each headstone would have to be different. No copycats.
My cemetery would be sure to rank among the world’s most visited. With lines around the block, I’d eventually have to charge a entrance fee and get some food trucks out there. Then take reservations for plots and pose for pictures — dressed as a ghost.
And this column comes full circle at last.
