Hello-Ween ESSAY

Halloween is coming and I cannot freakin’ wait. The smell is in the air, and it is getting to be just the right temperature outside: hoodie weather. Everything I see reminds me that that it will be here soon: the Spirit stores open, those two-month money machines that disappear just as quickly as they open. Spirit is practically a metaphor for Halloween itself: it’s so goddamn awesome that you can barely believe that it is legal, or exists at all, for that matter.
I have a buddy that literally has thousands of dollars worth of insane Halloween shit. Every year he saves his money and hits Spirit up the day after Halloween when everything is 50% off. He has crawling zombie animatronics, talking heads, laughing skulls, fog machines, the list goes on forever. Every year I usually play at a sick costume party somewhere, and I love that, but I always look forward to the actual Halloween night. We set up an entire graveyard in front of his father’s house in Pittsford, and spend the whole day drinking and carving pumpkins and setting up all types of crazy shit. Then, we get costumed up and scare the crap out of all the kids who come through the long walk that used to be a regular yard. Things are jumping out everywhere, we have camouflaged sensor pads all over the place, and when their little feet step on them things are popping up all over the place amid the fog. Last year there was this little kid dressed up as Harry Potter who wouldn’t even walk through it, even though every kid in the neighborhood knows we give away the best candy and include little toys and all types of crap. I know he was just a little guy, but I still thought he was kind of a pussy, even for a four year old, or whatever. Sue me. My dad would have thrown me into that shit.
Last year, it started raining early in the night, so we packed up all the delicate electronic stuff and went trick-or-treating ourselves. People get really funny, too, when grown men walk up onto their porch dressed up in costumes ringing their doorbells. They answer the door giving themselves a 50-50 chance that they might get robbed, or something. I guess it would be a good night to pull something like that…
I like that the holiday is rooted in ancient pagan traditions involving sacrifice, that just makes it that much more legit. It’s a holiday with some real street cred, no other holidays would dare fuck with Halloween. One is supposed to channel his favorite demon on this holiday, and dress accordingly. What I don’t understand is, did people ages ago have favorite demons? Sounds a little twisted, even by my standards: I have dressed as a barbecued child murderer (molester?) every year since I was a child. When you think about, kids dressed up as Freddy are either super twisted, or super bad-ass. They’re like, “Screw you Freddy, you kill children and burn them in a furnace. And I fuckin’ dig it.” That was me, anyway. It does have its ups and downs, however: on one hand, when I play a show, the pictures look awesome when I’m holding a mic in the claw. You can’t beat that. On the other hand, wearing a sweater all night in a packed club is absolute torture. I don’t wear masks or make-up or anything either, I’m John Krueger, hybrid. This year my mother got me a real Freddy claw for my birthday. That can’t bode well for anybody come Halloween.
Speaking of Halloween’s pagan roots, the has an electricity to it that is impossible to identify. You can feel trouble in the air; hell is literally blowing in the wind and everyone can feel it except the Jehovah’s Witnesses. I really pity them on Halloween, what a racket to miss out on. Everyone is dressed up and acting crazy and for one night we really are children of the Devil. Seeing as how we fell too, humans, I mean, I guess we should spend a little quality time with the old boy.