Halloween Visions

I love Halloween. Best holiday ever. I don't care that it's commercialized. I don't care if no presents are exchanged. Compared to Thanksgiving and Christmas, horrible affairs of the American family, it is a fucking superstar. Last night I saw a giant waving robot on Snelling Avenue, just waving at traffic, and behind the robot a big burly guy with an ax was laughing, Paul Bunyan revisited. I also saw a young angel giggling as she walked to a party. It was all so cool. And funny. Funny and cool. Halloween is magic time, baby. Anything can happen.

7 comments:

Blogagaard said...

LAst night I went with a friend to this strange Halloween/Day of the Dead production put on by local theater peoples in Hidden Falls Park in St. Paul. It was a warm, breezy evening and the leaves whispered in the trees and there was a crowd of about 300 there, sitting in blankets watching the show. They had a dinosaur skeleton monster that walke dinto the crowd and snapped at people and flame swallowers and spooks on stilts and an old timey gypsy band and shadow puppet theater. The ghosts asked us to call out the names of the dead we missed and everybody started shouting all these names and then we went down to the banks of the Misssippi River and sent off the dead on fiery river rafts while spooky bagpipes played from somewhere in the forest.

Lucas said...

David,
Halloween does rock. I'm a witch every year. I sit on my porch and cackle. I have the BEST witches cackle. I scare children, sometimes they cry. It's a tradition started by my mother which I proudly carry on. Handing out the candy IS Halloween to me. I don't like going to costume parties, I always feel stupid. But I love making the children cry. Is that wrong?

Blogagaard said...

No. Children should cry. It clenses the candy palate.

Tonight I'm going to walk around and make parents nervous.

Lucas said...

I love it. Walk by my house. Make me nervous. I'll make you cry. Hmmmm. Now I need a cigarette.

Lucas said...

And sorry David, for I'm a wretched flirt. Compulsive really.

Blogagaard said...

Compulsive flirt. Now there'd be an interesting fictional character. She flirts with her doctor, she flirts with her gynocologist! She flirts with the mailman, she flirts with gas station attendants, and when Death comes for her, she flirts with him, too! She flirts her way to Jesus, only to find out he's gay.

Lucas said...

That's me except I go to a female gynocologist and I'm not dead yet. And Jesus is gay? Did you see what he wore? Those awful robes and that scraggly beard? No way he was gay. God, I'm going straight to hell. I can hear Lucifer stoking the fires now. Rats.

Post a Comment