The Feast Of All Souls
Yesterday I was chatting with some other quasi- and former-bloggers I know (sorry, you weren't invited) and I realized that I forgot to tell everyone what my kids were for Halloween.

My oldest boy went as the city of Portland, Maine. I know, you're immediately thinking "How could you tell he wasn't going as Portland, Oregon?" I don't mean to be harsh, but really, what a stupid fucking question. First of all, the east-facing coastline is a dead giveaway. Plus the per capita crime rate is not the national embarrassment that it is in Portland, Oregon. Also he was wearing a lobster for a hat.

Sprog #2 went dressed as Sadness. It was not an easy costume to procure. It was an all-day process of preparation and manufacture. I made him eat sugar-less high-fiber cereal for breakfast, burned all his toys on the front lawn and when he watched TV, I made sure he only saw PBS's The News Hour with Jim Lehrer. He wasn't quite where I needed him to be, so just to be safe, I "accidentally" killed the dog with the minivan while he watched. It sounds mean, but the Cloak of Affected Sorrow and Veil of Bitter Tears were something to behold.

The youngest boy was Batman. I don't know, he just like Batman.

The kids are all home today for some sneaky Catholic reason I don't even understand. The wife is off tomorrow. Tomorrow's blogpost is in peril. If I don't make it, I am probably dead. Or busy.



This post on the Narcissus Scale: 9.7


Pops
- posted by Pops @ 8:54 AM