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 
enough 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!
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.
The following year I attended my first teenage Halloween party. Dressed as a leprechaun.
Not a pitchfork in sight.
Nostalgic, you look cute as a monster:)
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Ouch…
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I’m positive I shall never tire of this story or your graphics. You are an indispensable blessing, Mitch.
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Aw, thank you, Roo.
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Aw, jes sayin.
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Ouch, glad you can still walk!
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Yes, monsters should avoid pitchforks, torches and crowds of anergy villagers.
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Let me just add a hearty “Errrrrrrrr!” in agreement to that, Andrew.
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Owwie! I’m glad it didn’t dampen your Halloween spirits though.
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Omygosh! I bet you really let out a real howl of pain! Yes, Leprechauns are pretty safe. 🙂 Thanks for the laugh!
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;>)
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Who said you get what you ask for?
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Oh no! Grimacing here just thinking about the pain thrust (Is a pun in bad taste considering your travail?) upon you by that pitchfork. (Just how many trips to the ER did you have to take during your growing up years?!)
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Not sure, Nancy, but I always knew where to go when I arrived: The Mitch Teemley Suite.
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💗💖💕💞
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was the fun worth the pain though?
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Dad, is that you? ;>)
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Hahahahaha
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That’s probably the most interesting Halloween story I’ve heard yet! I’m glad that the pitchfork didn’t cause permanent damage…but wow, that must have hurt!
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Oh, yeah.
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Great Post Mitch, You will always allow only the best to hit this page. I am getting caught up and working on the motivation to create a post.
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Thank you. Now onto your own post!
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Awesome story. Should be part of a movie.
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Maybe someday. ;>)
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Loved the story! It was obvious from the beginning that you were destined to be a director. 😉
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;>)
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Wow. This is interesting, Mitch! I love the story you shared, you looked cute when you’re younger.
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It would have been so cool if you could have stayed oozing real blood. 🙂
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Cool is a relative concept.
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Good decisions come from experience. Experience comes from homemade special effects. 😉
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;>)
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Ouch!
I love the story, give me more!
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Hi Mitch,
Great job, Eye-gore! Fun times at Monster High. I love your quick bit stories.
Gary
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Thanks, Gary.
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Best Halloween we ever had as kids was when we did the same…transforming our house into a House of Horrors…We terrified some poor toddler by accident and I will never forget the sight of him running in terror to his mom’s outstretched arms after dropping his pumpkin…And aside for the guilt over the probable years of therapy, we had a blast the rest of the night!
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;>) Yeah, the trick (or treat) is to only scare those who want to be scared. Now on to Thanksgiving!
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