Just so happened that there was a costume contest on Halloween every year at the greatest job ever. We had vendors that used to come in and judge the contest and hand out all kinds of money. And every year I'd show or place, but never win cause one person or another spent a fortune on getting outfitted. I had enough of that. Here I was, the one true scary person in the group. No one could come close to my love of the supernatural and the dark side. I deserved to win for that alone.
Alright, I already had experience asking the butcher for odd body parts. I came up with the idea of "Waitress from the Realm of Death." I had a couple long black dresses and aprons. I picked up a few bags of spider webs and makeup. A large pewter serving tray was in the basement. Slippery things cling better to pewter than aluminum or silver.
So, I went to the butcher and asked for bags of every raw cow organ he had around. Took a couple of days to get everything I needed. Livers, kidneys, hearts, pancreas and brains. There was a decent amount of blood in the bags too.
I also wrote a poem about being a "Waitress in the Realm of Death." It was pretty good too. Jim Morrison would have liked it. So I brought my costume into work and put a big bag of organs in the refrigerator. Time for me to get dolled up. Got the clothes on and put on the grossest looking makeup. I looked horrible. I wrapped my self in spider webs and put plastic bugs and spiders all over me. Thinking back I should have collected real dead bugs over the year. Oh well. Still in the ladies room, I set down the pewter tray and start emptying the bags of organs onto it. A young girl, pretty new to the shipping department, came in and had the most sickened, horrified look on her face. She didn't even wash her hands and might have left for good that day. Maybe the next.
I had that tray overflowing with blood and guts. I really wish I had a picture of it. I know some people took a few photos, but who knows. So I go out there and lined up with everyone else. Each person would make an appearance in front of the judges, one by one. My turn. I go up there and plop that tray down on the table. I stand there and read my poem. How could I not win? Who writes a poem as part of a costume contest. Victory. It had to happen. It was the glory that I longed for, the vindication for everyone that was true to all that Halloween stands for. Not the $100.
But really, the fun was just beginning. It was sometime in the mid 90's and the neighborhood was teaming with grade school kids. I loved to make the place very, very spooky. It seems a lot of people in the neighborhood felt the same way. It was a great time and place to trick or treat. I made up stuffed demon dummies with masks and real clothing and sat them down in the yard. I grew pumpkins and had them all over the place. I had real animal skulls that I put in the window. I left the leaves on the ground and played spooky music. I didn't mind when the dummies were stolen. I was honored. It was a night for mayhem.
This year was going to be extra special because I had the bloody tray of organs. I left them on the porch and when kids made it up to the door they'd give the tray a big grossed out scared look. They would get to the door and I'd beat them to it. I was still in horrible costume and I'd say "Would you like a trick or a treat?" When I said treat I'd wave my hand over the bloody tray. Some kids screamed. If the parents were down on the sidewalk they'd tell them and the parents would laugh.
It was getting later in the night and one little boy came to the door. Maybe about eight years old. I pull the same schpiel with him but he ended up freaking me out. His eyes got real big. He says a real long drawn out "cooool." Then he asked "Is that human?" "Cool." Kid. You got it on me.
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