Now, I’ve been told that some day…some day…what I’m about tell you will be in my book of funny Halloween stories. I don’t know. Maybe enough time hasn’t passed yet, because I haven’t really been able to bring myself to laugh at what happened to me this past Halloween.
October 31, 2016. It was going to be dark in about four hours and I still hadn’t thought of a clever Halloween prank to play on my friends. This day was reminiscent of “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.” The way the wind was blowing that evening, it set the scene for the ultimate scary prank. There was this constant eery howling, and it was damp outside and smelled like wet pine. “I’m gonna scare the pants off somebody tonight,” I laughed to myself. Last Halloween, I scared Jimmy Thompson so bad, he wet himself. Cleaning it up was no fun, but I almost died laughing at how scared he was. See, I jumped him from behind and blindfolded him, tied him up and threw him in the trunk of my car.
He really thought he was being kidnapped! Ha!
I drove him down to the pond. My plan was to take him out of the trunk and scare him into thinking it was the end of the road for him. He thought he’d never see another Halloween. Unfortunately, when I saw how badly he had wet up my trunk from fear, I blurted out “Aw c’mon Jimmy! Now I gotta clean that up!”
I blew the rest of the gag by opening my big mouth.
This Halloween, I was going to play it through all the way — whatever prank I was going to pull. I looked around the house for scary props, all the while masterminding a terrifying plan to scare the bejesus out of the first one of my friends to come near my house! Then it hit me. I had placed a scarecrow outside on my front porch about a month back. It wore a checkered shirt, boots, overalls, and had a huge jack-o-lantern for a head. Everybody in the neighborhood knew about the scarecrow, so it was the perfect setup. I was going to dress up in the scarecrow’s clothes, down to the pumpkin head, and at the right moment, “spring to life!”
I placed a bowl of candy on a stool on the porch and slouched down in the chair, just like the scarecrow had been sitting the entire month leading up to Halloween. The trick-or-treaters started coming, and I was tempted to jump up at everyone that came on my porch. But I wanted to wait until just the right moment. After about 15 to 20 people had grabbed some candy from my bowl, I decided it was time.
Now I had been sitting with my head in that jack-o-lantern for about an hour. It was a little stuffy to say the least. I had applied some black face paint so that people wouldn’t be able to easily see my face through the holes in the jack-o-lantern, but I started to sweat and some of the paint ran into my eyes. Keeping still was extremely difficult at this point. Everything was blurry, but through my squinted eyes, I saw a six or seven-year-old kid in a baseball uniform starting up my lawn. “Here we go,” I thought to myself. As the kid started to reach for some candy I JUMPED UP to grab him!
This is where my story goes south.
The kid freaked out and staying true to his Halloween costume, he swung a bat (which I conveniently did not see beforehand — thank you sweat in my eyes) and knocked me down my porch steps. For a youngster, he really packed a wallop because I was in a whole lot of pain and almost completely disoriented. All of a sudden, it sounded like an angry mob of munchkins were descending on me. The same eyes that had failed to see this kid’s baseball bat had failed me twice. It wasn’t just a uniformed baseball player that had come to get some candy from my haunted porch. It was an entire baseball team. Every last one of them equipped (better yet — armed) with baseball bats.
They hit me everywhere.
It didn’t matter how much I screamed in pain. These nasty little hellions were screaming and squealing louder than I was. In fact, I think less than half way through, they were squealing with delight — not fear — as they thrashed me with what seemed like a thousand wooden and aluminum bats.
After they worked me over for a unnecessarily long time, I was dazed, battered, and broken. I stumbled out into the street and WAM!! I was hit by a 2016 Ford Explorer.
Luckily, they weren’t going very fast because they were being cautious with all of the trick-or-treaters running around. But no matter the speed, it still hurts to get struck by an SUV.
I don’t know exactly when my pumpkin head came off. I’m not sure if the drivers of the Explorer took it off for me, or if the impact did. I do know that it didn’t come off during my savage beating, which is probably a good thing. On the one hand, it might have made the kids realize that I wasn’t, in fact, an undead scarecrow. But on the other hand, they were so caught up in their little “Lord of the Flies” moment, I don’t think they would have stopped the attack. So I’d imagine that death or brain damage would have been the ultimate result had my jack-o-lantern “mask” come off.
So, anyway, the nurses at the hospital were very nice, but I think I heard a few of them cracking jokes about me in front of my hospital room door.
What’s Halloween without pumpkin pie? I heard one of them say. “The kids already mashed the pumpkin. Now all we need is crust.”
I’m pretty much healed now, except for the limp, and I think some of these scars will be with me for the rest of my life. But we move forward, ya’ know?
Hmmm. Now, what prank can I pull this year?