And A ‘Boo’yaw to Y’all

Zombie Pumpkin courtesy of TheMan’s 1337 pumk1n c4rvin 5ki11z.

Speaking of Zombies, Pumpkin Mike (or Mike the Pumpkin, he goes by either) was vandaled sometime during the day by the damn squirrels. Not only did they eat more of his head but they made off with his eyeball!! Toothpick and all! Gone in one squirrely act of eyeball piracy. Damn squirrels. TheMan made Mike the Pumpkin a new eyeball out of the scraps of his zombie pumpkin so all is well but if I come home on All Saint’s Day to find the second eyeball gone, I’m buying a pellet gun.

Also with the zombies, uhhh, hold on…did I tell y’all about my coffee incident? No? Maybe? OK, it all started about three weeks ago when I dumped a travel mg of coffee over onto Beanie Death’s lap. Poor thing had to come into work and get a bath in the Ladie’s Loo and then dry off all nekked like on my desk light shelf. Sadly, some of the coffee (which I have with sugar because I am not hard core) wound up on the dash so I set Beanie Death aside until I could clean off that spot. It took three weeks to remember to get wipes or bring wipes or whatever but! Monday morning I cleaned Beanie Death’s traveling spot with the new wipes we picked up the day before. Then I cleaned the whole dashboard because the clean Beanie Death spot was glaring at me what with the rest of the dash so dusty it was starting to get dash dreads. Then, not 20 minutes later when I was walking around the car to take over driving after dropping TheMan off, I managed to upend my full travel mug of coffee that I carefully sat on the dash and coffee gurgled in a mighty flood all down the stereo console. The radio does not so much like a good deluging of coffee and she up and died.

Or at least I thought she had. When I got out of work and into the car this evening, I thought I’d give the radio a test and lo! She…well the display was working and after a bit of fiddling I got the stations to come in but it was far from Lazarus radio since the reception was iffy and kept fuzzing in and out when I hit the brakes. Don’t know what that was about but I have hope! And also, zombie radio! Seasonal.

Sadly, our Trick-or-Treat stuff never came in so we had to scrounge (and break into the future Smithee giveaways) to come up with toys for the tots. We managed to scrape together some stuff and were all set for the onslaught of tykes to begin at about 7:00. Except…the tykes didn’t come. And they didn’t come. And they didn’t come until much later than I would have expected tykes to start knocking on our door. We also had a poor showing of tykes this year, which may or may not have any correlation with the late starting time of Trick-or-Treating. I refuse to do math today to prove or disprove any connection between the two. Here are the new running totals for the Q house Trick-or-Treating log:

2001 = 50
2002 = 55
2003 = 33
2004 = 54
2005 = 55
2006 = 26

Bah. A paltry half(ish) of last year’s kids. What’s up with that? I do have two funny tyke stories though. One set of enterprising kids knocked on our door and hollered the obligatory “Trick-or-Treat!” so I stopped my crocheting. Next I had to untangle myself from my crocheting project which left me free to navigate the obstacle course of our living room. Just as I was rounding the rocking chair hung with rejected strings of lights, the door opened and little costumed tykes started burbling into the house! Ahhhhh-HEY! What – NO TRICK OR TREATERS IN MY HOUSE! Get out you! And you too! Out!

Another little fella, maybe three years old, came up to the door brandishing his pumpkin bag in the air for me to fill. His mother prompted him with a sotto “Say Trick-or-Treat honey” which came out more like twikrteet and was accompanied by another hopeful waver of said bag in my general direction. So I put a glowy skeleton in the bag along with a paratrooper (the standard fare) and gave him my patter for the evening: “Here’s one glowy skeleton and one paratrooper.” (Genius, isn’t it? I should write a play or something with my 1337 5ki11z) The mother prompted the Little Fella to say ‘Thank you’ but instead, he shook his pumpkin bag in distress and wailed out “I want candy!” I told the Little Fella that we didn’t have any candy and that was the straw that set him off. Right there on our porch, much to the embarrassment of his mother, the Little Fella went into full blown meltdown mode. Oh he was Not. Happy. He stood there crying “CAAAAAAAAAAANDYYYYY” and shaking his pumpkin bag until his mother apologized and bundled him off to parts unknown. Well, parts unknown after the cries of “caaaandy” receded in the distance.

Heh. I guess someone had just a wee bit too much Halloween.

Last year at the booniverse: We did not get our pumpkins carved, which means tonight will be another episode of the seven second Jack-o-lantern.

Last last year at the booniverse: Just a bit of seasonal joy.

The year before at the booniverse: It suddenly was 10:00 and WE HADN’T YET CARVED PUMPKINS!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

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