My Brief but Glorious Career as a Monster

I had a huge affection for monsters as a kid. From Dr. Frankenstein’s befuddled electro-charged jarhead to that ultimate rejected pound puppy, the Wolfman. So once I got old mitch-la-pluma2enough to say no to Mom’s “you would look adorable in this!” suggestions, I chose every time to be a monster. (⇐ Note 3rd grade class photo with “improvements” by me).

But a crisis occurred when I hit 13. I very desperately wanted to be hideous, but prevailing teenage culture decreed that trick-or-treating was “for kids.” Yet I wasn’t enough of a teenager to be invited to any actual teenage parties. So where and how could I be monstrous? It wasn’t the candy I wanted, it was the costume. I longed to recoil in horror at my own hideous countenance in the mirror!

Buddy Rory and I finally came up with a solution: We would distribute candy. As monsters! Here’s how it played out: We placed a folding table in the entrance to the family garage, leaving a shadowy grotto in the background full of instruments of terror (brooms, shovels, Christmas lights), and then festooned the room with kite-string cobwebs. I hung an elbowed section of duct pipe from the rafters and backlit it with a red bulb. The piece de resistance was a large pitchfork hung precariously over the entire scene. Et voila! The creepiest candy distribution center ever!23654

Rory sat at the table, oozing Miracle Whip from eyebrow-pencil wounds. I loomed, twisted and hideous, in the rafters. As assorted Tinkerbells and Daniel Boones approached, Rory would greet them with a black-toothed grin, and then pound the table. From above I would groan an Igorly, “Yes, master!” and drop candy down the pipe. Then, as the quivering seven-year-old palmed the candy, I would leap down, cackling like Quasimodo, and the trembling child would run off with a terror-ific squeal, clutching a squished fistful of chocolate.

It was the greatest Halloween ever! Until, along about kid number forty-six, something went horribly awry. I jumped down, admittedly a little over-zealous, to scare an annoyingly cocky kid, causing the rafters to rattle with gusto. This, in turn, caused the pitchfork to vibrate with verve and finally leap free of its tiny picture-nail hook. Whence it plunged with zest into my bare foot below. I still remember the sound of the tines pushing their way between my meaty midfoot tarsals and striking the concrete beneath.

The E.R. waiting room was full of 13 year old monsters.

no_pitchforksThe following year I attended my first teenage Halloween party. Dressed as a leprechaun.

Not a pitchfork in sight.

About mitchteemley

Writer, Filmmaker, Humorist, Thinker-about-stuffer
This entry was posted in Culture, Humor, Memoir and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

21 Responses to My Brief but Glorious Career as a Monster

  1. LOL! Oh dear, I am so sorry. I have never done that before, but I have managed to step on a couple of rakes and give myself a black eye. That is terrible tale to try to explain, no glamor, no heroism, I just forgot to put the rake away and whacked myself upside the head with it.

    Long ago I got a phone call from a couple of teen age boys in a panic. One of them somehow manged to impale his foot with a TV antenna. I know they were terrified, but I still really had to fight the urge to burst out laughing.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Hilarious story… Real life is full of the BEST humor! 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Roos Ruse says:

    I adore your creativity – and your recount of the event, of course!

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Tyrone says:

    Nicely written!

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Yu/stan/kema says:

    Very good story. Home run, Mitch.

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Delyn Merce says:

    Oh, Mitch! What a fun kid you were…and I’m so sorry about the foot injury, but there’s a price for everything 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  7. alittlebitnaughty says:

    Love it.

    Liked by 2 people

  8. Oh the HORROR! So that’s how Igor (uh, I mean… Mitch) developed that limp. Ouch. 😀

    Liked by 2 people

  9. Lol 🙂 It’s why you want to become actor. You are a gifted writer.

    Liked by 2 people

  10. Paula says:

    Maybe we all have a ‘nightmare’ Halloween story to tell. Mine is about a rabbit costume failure and falling into a cold puddle in the rain. Did I ever trick-or-treat again? Sure. Kids are pretty resilient. But I’ll never forget that night, that horrible costume, and freezing all night until we got home. I now have a rabbit for a pet. That’s bunny ears enough for me. Thanks for another great story, Mitch.

    Liked by 2 people

  11. Pingback: They Just Don’t Make Monsters the Way They Used To | Mitch Teemley

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