Never Take Candy from Strangers...Except on Halloween

I am going to knock on your door. I will be dressed as Charles Dickens while also wearing a mask. I will hold a satchel in your face. I will offer a threat, meant to be carried out if you don't meet my demands. You will comply with my demands and I will leave.

It is called robbing your house.

It is also called Halloween.

And it is awesome.

As a child, I loved Halloween for a myriad of reasons, almost too many to count, but one of the best parts by far was wearing my costume to school. Halloween was a big deal at Mountain Avenue Elementary School. There was always a carnival the Saturday before the holiday which included fun games and prizes and Korean BBQ. Then on Halloween itself you would wear your costume to school and this was always my favorite part because my mother is an awesome sewer and I thought I always had really cool costumes. My costumes included A baseball player, A naval officer, a police man, a lion, and a scarecrow. And it was always awesome because we got out of class in order to participate in the school wide costume parade in which everyone walked around the playground in their costumes. It sounds less exciting now, but for a 7 year old it was friggen the best.

Number one part of Halloween though, trick or treating aka free candy aka a child's dream aka a diabetic's nightmare.

I never let myself get visibly excited for trick or treating but on the inside I was fricken excited. Once when I was 8, I went trick or treating as usual with my father, Floyd.

We were making the rounds when we got to one ladies house, who when she answered the door explained that a group of boys had just grabbed her entire bowl of candy and run away. Upon hearing this, my father ceased being Floyd and became Floyd Pope Walters III. With a firm "Follow me son" he walked back down the pathway and up the sidewalk. My mind was racing as to what was about to happen, all I knew is that this man in front of me was very determined and as we came up to a group of boys sitting on a lawn with an empty candy bowl it dawned on me.

I was about to witness something terrible.

I froze in my tracks as Floyd Pope Walters III marched right up to the young thieves. He grabbed the empty candy bowl. I held my breath. The four 11-13 year olds looked at my father with wary gazes.

And then, with no warning, my father spoke. He spoke in way I had never heard before and haven't heard since.

"Did you boys steal that woman's candy?" he asked in the most terrifying way I have ever heard a question be asked.

"N-no s-she gave it to us!" Replied the stupid, stupid boy.

Floyd wasn't having any of it.

In a scene straight out of the Andy Griffith Show he picked up the empty candy bowl and said with sheer anger, disappointment and fatherly instinct, "You boys better straighten up! You know better than this! You are going to go and apologize to that nice woman right now!"

And they did. And I just stood there, awestruck. I didn't feel much like trick or treating after that. At first I was embarrassed, but then as I have gotten older I realize that those punks got less than what they deserved. (which is a severe smacking).

It makes me yearn for the day when I can invoke angry wisdom on the youth of America. But it also makes me yearn for the day when I can take my own child trick or treating and use it as an opportunity to teach them a valuable life lesson by scaring the crap out of them.

Happy Halloween.

Because I Care

I guess you can call me a humanitarian...because I only eat humans. Sorry that was a cheap joke but it helps me introduce my topic for this post because what I'm going to write here is something I feel very strongly about.

The other day I asked myself, "Self, what are you doing to make a difference in this world?" I thought for a little while and came up with the following list of things I am doing to make the world better:

1. I give firm handshakes (there is nothing worse than a dead fish handshake)
2. I pet dogs
3. I burn all my trash (no need to crowd the landfills!)
4. I gave a quarter to a vagabond
5. I refuse to listen to techno

All of these things are great for the world, but even after I came up with this list I was left with an empty feeling inside, and even after 6 rice krispy treats and several glasses of lemonade it was still there.
I deduced that the emptiness was there because I was doing some but I wasn't doing enough.

So I looked at myself in the mirror for a long time and then all of a sudden it came to me!
I needed to start a non-profit to fight disease, not sure which disease, I haven't decided yet but I've already come up with the name for my life saving venture.
It's called "Mustache for the Cure" and not only will it help people who suffer from an as of yet undetermined disease, but it will once again return the Mustache to it's rightful place as an image of sexiness and manly pride. For far too long has it been a symbol of child predators and creepy uncles.

The focus of this movement will be to raise funds for those among us having to deal with debilitating disease. What will happen is we will get male volunteers who will agree to grow mustaches after they receive sponsorship from one or many donors. A donor will pledge X amount of dollars and the volunteer will grow a mustache. It is sort of like Relay for Life but a lot sexier.(Relay for Life is cool though and I suggest you check them out if you don't know what it is)

I'm going to need some backing from large corporations and beloved public figures, *cough*Rose Queen*cough* but most importantly I need support from you, especially those of you who can grow mustaches.

Together we can change the world, one fuzzy upper lip at a time.

P.S. Some other names/ideas I came up with for good causes:

1. Hip Upper Lips (not meant to be a charity, just a club for cool mustaches)

Soul Patch Soldiers (organized disaster relief with teams comprised entirely of men with soul patches)

Die Communists Die (pretty self explanatory)

P.S.S. Happy Birthday Saige Miley.

Fat Kids Hate Running

Think back to a time when you didn't have stress in your life. For me, that time was never. Because even as a baby there was always something to worry about. Like, what if mother forgets to feed me? or What if I poop my pants?(which is something I did like everyday) or even, What if I get sold to a homeless man? All of them are legitimate worries that progressed into even more legitimate worries as I got older.

When I was in fourth grade there was nothing that I feared more than the timed Mile-run test in P.E. It was a death sentence on my poorly shaped body and I really didn't want to have anything to do with it, but the State demanded that I participate so I had no choice. As the date of the test approached I began to get more and more stressed out and began praying harder and harder that I wouldn't have to do it.

The day of the test came.

And it was raining.

We were informed that the test had to be postponed until the next day and I was so happy. Until I realized that the next day would be coming very soon and the dread once again set into my stomach.

The day of the test came again.

And so did a forest fire.

The bad air quality made it unsuitable for running therebye further postponing the test and solidifying my belief in God.

The test literally got postponed 4 times for different reasons and it turns out that it wasn't such a good thing because my stress level just continued rising until I was on the verge of an emotional break-down.

Finally the day came when I had to run. I began the test with low spirits and finished 16 minutes later with even lower ones. There is nothing more embarrasing than coming nearly last in front of your peers. Nothing except farting in the face of the girl holding your feet during the sit-up portion of the fitness test.

I will never forget the look on that poor girl's face.

I am so sorry.