Kids

Trick or Treatment

by Enormous on October 11, 2007

We had the season’s first trick-or-treaters at the house yesterday. They seem to arrive earlier and earlier every year. The 31st of October is still over two weeks away but there they were at the door with their plastic masks and little hands held out demanding gratuities.

One of the begging children last night was a boy who seemed too old to be indulging in such an activity. At fourteen or fifteen years-old, he was perhaps the others’ pimp or evil gangmaster. He had elected to not wear any disguise and I was able to study his features carefully. His face looked like a slapped arse, as we say around these parts, and by the intense and threatening way he was staring at me, I immediately formed the opinion that he would more than likely go on to develop various unwholesome sexual proclivities in later life.

Why the peculiarly American trend of trick-or-treating has become such a popular one in this country is puzzling to me. There must of course be economic and commercial reasons for it to do so, but the actual customs and social traditions of Halloween appear lost or buried. This morning, I awoke having slept badly, as if my subconscious had been working overtime during the night, trying to solve this arresting conundrum.

One of the local newsagents has taken to selling big purple signs that homeowners can place in a conspicuous position on their property. In bold orange lettering they bear the legend, No Trick or Treat Here, Please. However, to display such a thing in one’s window is madness, surely: it invites extensive egg-throwing and the posting of dog excrement through one’s letterbox on a massive scale.

I have adopted the simple strategy of not answering the door when called upon to do so by these irritating junior nuisances but last night I was caught off guard by their premature arrival. I was, of course, more than able to improvise.

‘Trick or treat?’ one of them demanded.

Treat, please,’ I said.

‘What?’ came the bewildered reply.

‘I’ll have a treat, please.’ They looked at each other in utter confusion.

‘We haven’t got any. Sorry,’ the smallest of them said.

I think I heard him weeping as they trundled off down the road.

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Galaxy Hotel

by Enormous on September 27, 2007

‘Aaaaiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeee!’

That was the rather alarming sound that was coming from an ugly little boy-child whom Audrey and I passed this morning. He did not want to go to school.

It sounded like someone was killing a pig. Audrey was most dismayed. ‘I’m not surprised he’s ugly,’ I whispered to her. ‘Look at his mother.’

The desperate woman who had lost control of her horrific terrorist infant was no oil painting. There are many women around here who I suspect share full gene sequences, as the longer I stay in this village, the quicker that they are all beginning to resemble one another in their unsightliness. This particular woman’s features were so ghastly that I was surprised she did not fall over. She reminded me somewhat of one of the dwarfs staring out from a Velázquez painting.

I mentioned all of this to Nelson when I rang him a few minutes ago. ‘Kids,’ he said. ‘Horrible things – one bit me once in Piccadilly. Do you remember? You, on the other hand, really like them, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I do,’ I said. ‘I couldn’t eat a whole one though.’ I went on: ‘I was wondering if I might invite myself down to stay with you for a week, Nel. I could really do with a break.’

‘Sure. We’ll hit all the bars in Soho and the West End,’ he said, excitedly.

‘Not every night,’ I told him. ‘Maybe just the Friday.’

‘OK, boss,’ he said. ‘Message understood. No drinking on a school night, but the weekend we go crazy.’

‘I really just need a quiet break,’ I told him.

‘My flat isn’t a bloody hotel, you know,’ he complained. Then: ‘Wait a minute. I know you, Nap. You’re planning something, aren’t you?’

‘I might be,’ I said.

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