Stephen here again. If Jesstine doesn't appear to have the right holiday attitude, she comes by it honestly. I, for one, have never cared much for Halloween. Sure, the candy is great (or at least was back in the day when I went looking for it), but it's such a bother with all the costumes and such. You can ask my mom. Even when I was Jesstine's age (OK, maybe I was a little older than that), I HATED being in makeup or costume. Anything with a mask was just no good. Of course, there was also that incident where I took a pair of scissors to a tiny piece of my inflatable costume top, just as an experiment in air pressure. Dad didn't care for my scientific methods. Worst of all was the yearly "parade" through school. To me, it was nothing but a parade of freakish ugliness, and I was forced to take part. Even with no costume, guess who had to walk along the halls and pretend to be having a good time? And please, don't ask me why I'm not wearing a costume. You don't really want to know.
But enough of that. Popeye here... whoops I mean the cute little cat on the right deserves better than me whining. So in the spirit of the season, let me tell you a story of the best Halloween ever. Don't worry, I'm not wasting your time. It has something to do with Jesstine, honest!
A few years ago, I was asked to go help out at a Halloween party being hosted by one of the families at church for the teen group. Halloween party?!? Me??? Anathema! But because the lady organizing it was so nice (and her daughter very attractive) I agreed to go. I didn't have to put on any costume (I was strict on that point). Instead, I would wear dark sweats and hide behind the house with a walkie-talkie and provide the voice of the welcoming scarecrow who could mysteriously converse with the kids (the other end of the walkie-talkie was hidden in the scarecrow). It was a similar setup to what I'd done during the second-best Halloween ever, helping out the soccer team at "Haunted Island" at Watson Park (there's just some kind of visceral thrill associated with spraying folks with a jet of water from a hidden Jason Voorhees statue).
Anyway, after all the kids had gone in, I picked up my gear and went inside for some goodies. Although the organizer's daughter was a no-show, just after stepping into the living room, I happened upon a blond girl wearing what appeared to be a yeti costume. She looked familiar, and I remembered meeting her once before at church. Although more hirsute than normal, there was something about her that just seemed.... right. I thought she was the sister of Ola, one of the teens at church. I decided that I was at a Halloween party, where I normally would not be found, so why not do something else I wouldn't normally do? I went up to her, brushed my hand lightly over her spiky hair, and said (with debonair charm), "Hi. You're Ola's sister, aren't you?"
There's a lot more to the story, including a gentle rebuff ("You'll have to ask my mother"), a fish fry, and a walk-off at the old Members Only warehouse("It's a walk-off....it's a walk-off"). But this is already running long, and the other party to the story probably wishes her input to be heard. To sum it up, a few years later I have this (among other things) to show for that Halloween party encounter:
So happy Halloween to everyone! You never know when it might turn into something great!