THE HALLOWEEN THAT WASN'T

Hi there, Vida G., roving reporter for Uncle mac's garden Shed, in only my second official gig. For some arcane reason that I cannot grasp I've been tasked with covering the Halloween Holiday festivities which did not take place this year. Good old Frankenstorm Sandy sort of put trick or treat out of every one's mind. This is probably some sort of test of my journalistic skills. Pfaughh! This is merely child's play. (But then again these Shed folks are a lot like big children.)

Halloween is always a fun holiday, or at least it was until the church people and the politically correct crowd and the rest of the up-to-no-gooders felt obliged to stick their collective oars in.

Lots of neat decorations went up around the shed...

Uncle Mac carved the traditional welcoming Jack-O-Lantern.

Traditional according to him that is.

(Ditto: "welcoming")

Trick or Treaters are a mixed blessing here. I mean, you'd think parents would know better by now but amazingly enough, they still let their children come around, the rash of disappearances in 1998 notwithstanding. Think about it, little kids out at night in the dark, and Leatherface low on sausage meat. How in the world is that ever going to end well?

For every cloud, a silver lining they say and I understand that this horrific event helped everyone realize that a follow up on Leather's first lobotomy was in order. Today he seems mellow enough to me; a lot like a doorstop actually.

But some rare groups of treat seekers prove to be fine company and have been invited to come back whenever they like. These guys, sans sheets, are around all the time. They enjoy playing silly dog games with the wolves, and digging unwanted holes in the garden when we leave a gate open.*

I wasn't here to observe this sordid spectacle of course but I understand this crowd was also invited to stick around a few Halloweens back, by Mac and the boys (naturally) and were discovered by Farm Girl the following morning, somewhat the worse for wear and draped over various hay bales and farming machines. It took a quick wash and rinse through selected worm holes and a gold bar each to hush that one up. The one in black still stops by; she seems to have a little something for the Ripper.

No accounting for taste.

This crew gets the boiling oil treatment whenever spotted. Nasty bastids, and no respect at all for a well ordered garden.

 

 

 

And then there is this poor sod. He apparently showed up on Halloween looking and acting very much like a building inspector. He was introduced to the compost heap on a permanent basis about 30 seconds into his routine, I'm told. (A shadow of this story rattled around space time for a bit and popped out in slightly distorted form at http://lowcrimesandmisdemeanors.blogspot.com/)

 

 

I remembering asking Farm Girl why the Shed Folk, "eccentric"** as they are, would casually eliminate a public servant such as a building inspector.

 

"Too many of 'em", she said. "Think of them as cabbage loopers."

 

"But what if he was just an innocent in costume?" I asked.

 

"Then he should have known better." was the unexpected reply.***

 

But these are mere shadows of Halloweens past. This year there was no trick or treating, no Halloween parties in the Northeast but everyone had their costumes, for the most part. Let's just see what might have been.

Farm Girl went the magical witch route, a role I think she fills well. The broom borrowed from a timeline where magic really works was a particularly nice touch...

Delacroix's sorceress outfit was equally stunning...












 

Although, being Lacey, she relied on high explosives for her special effects. She torched a few off  despite the storm and power crews throughout the County thought transformers were blowing left and right....

  

I tried buttering up Uncle Mac by complimenting him on his costume.

"Unc", said I, "That is the best rendition of a crotchety, cantankerous, whiskey soaked overly bewhiskered yet lecherous old fart that I have ever seen! Congratulations!"

"Ain't put muh costume on yet." He replied.

(Oops...)

 
Mallory decided to be Bertie Wooster. But he sort of is Bertie Wooster anyway. Besides who knows who Bertie is anymore. Or even who Mallory was**** for that matter. Epic fail, George!

 

 

Jack is scary enough in his old everyday working garb, and knows it...

 

 

 

 

Leatherface decided to be a Gleason Box! That guy rocks! And with a brain the size of a turnip. Go figga!

 

 

 

Through the miracle of modern cosmetics and costume design, Aunt Agnes decided to be, well, not be herself, anyway, and even I have to admit, big improvement!

 

 

 

 

Now the critters: Mrs BobKat considers herself above such foolishness...

 

 

 

 

And Blinky is preoccupied feeding little Blinkies...

 

But the wolves? They're troopers and party animals, and were looking forward to trick or treating. (Where's the beef?) They were so disappointed they wouldn't take their costumes off for days!

 

 

 

Here's Dire

 

 

 

 

And here's Nero, that cut up...

 

 

Ain't they old sweetie pusses, for 400 lbs of slaverin' carnivore that is?

 

"Well what about you, Vida G?", you may be wonderin'.

 

Well this was my first holiday as a full blown Shed inmate, so I wanted to get it right.

 

 

I tried Wonder Woman, but that's dated.

 

 

 

A zombie; but that's played out - they're everywhere! Have you been to Washington, lately?

 

 

 

So then I figured, hey, its a Garden Shed filled with strange and exotic critters. I decided to be one of those...

 

Think it would have worked?

 

Well this is Vida G, reporting live to you on something that never happened, from Uncle Mac's Garden Shed. Trick or treat!*****

 

*Something about being around wormholes too much must alter ones perspective on life. I mean, playing with the wolves? kids as sausages? I can't imagine not running away screaming even a month ago!

 

**"Eccentric." I guess one could say Vlad the Impaler could be a trifle peckish on occasion.

 

***I mean, shouldn't things like this make me even slightly nervous?

 

****Is? Was? This space-time shiftin' stuff takes getting used to. I guess Mallory, like Jack and Farm Girl, both are, and at some other point in time also were so to speak. Delacroix and Leatherface, however, are, but never were, if you catch my drift. Mac is, and has been for quite a while I'm the only normal one here. I expect Agnes might be also, timewise, but it's difficult to put "normal" and "Agnes" in the same sentence. Well I hope I've cleared that all up for you! (Geeze what's Millies story?)

 

*****You might be wondering what happened to Millie Quackenbush. Normally she never misses a shed function but no one has seen her for weeks heck, I've never seen her, so we wonder with you. Might be a story there...

 

 

 

 

"AHEM!"

 

"Ack! You startled me! Post is over anyway, who the hell are you?"

 

"Um. Trick or treat?"

 

"Trick or treat? You're a raccoon, what in the name of Davey Crockett's hat do you want?!!"

 

"Er. Ixnay on the athay, please. Got any sweet corn?"

 

"SWEET CORN!" No we do NOT have any sweet corn! We didn't get any sweet corn! And do you know why we didn't get any sweet corn???"

 

"Early frost?"

 

"NO! We have no sweet corn because all of our tender young ears wound up in fat little raccoon bellies, much like the one you are sporting, even as we speak!"

 

"Just to be clear, no corn?"

 

"NO!"

 

"No need to shout. Well, that  is certainly a nice warm haystack you have there, where the old lady is sleeping. A raccoon could do worse. I think I'll stay!"

 

"What a great idea! It might interest you to know, however, that no one fed the wolves today."

 

"I think I'll leave."

 

"Good call."

 

Look at the fat little waddler! Stuffed with our corn from pointy nose to ring tail. I've never fired a firearm in my life and even I'd like to rock salt his ass!

 

Anyway, now we are really, really done. Thanks for stopping, I'm Vida G.