I didn't do the usual this Halloween. The usual is waiting for my doorbell to ring, waddling my fat a** to the door and handing candy to kids - and then making fun of them and their parents in Jerks of the Week.
It's usually a wonderful evening. The kids get their precious candy, the parents get their precious moment they'll cherish forever, and I get my precious writing material. Everyone wins!
What I did for Halloween this year was radically different. My girlfriend and her siblings set up a haunted house in their parents' garage, so I drove up there to help out. It was a nice change of pace, and I figured I might still get some writing material. I didn't want to screw over the kids in my neighborhood, so I set up a cardboard box outside filled with all the old, stale candy I didn't want from my house and wrote, "Please leave some for others" on it. I knew some 14-year-old douche was going to grab all of it the first chance he got, but I thought it was a nice gesture on my part.
Anyway, the haunted house was cool. The kids and their parents would enter the left side of the garage, where I would stick out a skeletal hand from behind a fake window and yell. They would then enter the back-left portion, where there were four mannequins - except that one of them was my girlfriend's brother's girlfriend, who would jump out and scare them. My girlfriend's sister was tied up in the next room and would warn them to escape as quickly as possible. The kids would then get their candy upon exiting the haunted house.
It was a fun time, and I managed to scare lots of kids. In fact, a couple of kids ran out of the garage as soon as I stuck out the skeletal hand and yelled. If these children are scarred forever because of that, and have to seek counseling as a result, then I'm quite happy. I've done my job.
Of course, there were cool teenagers who weren't scared by anything. I'd see tall people walking into the haunted house, and I would try extra hard to scare them. It didn't work, however, and these cool teens would say something like, "Ha! Nice try, but I'm not scared of anything!" Of course, you're not, because you're almost an adult - and yet you're going around and gathering free candy when you could just as easily pay for it, douche. Look, I'm all for gathering free candy, but you don't have to be a pompous a**hole about it.
Anyway, I thought I did my job well. My girlfriend's other sister's husband didn't think so. He repeatedly yelled, "Pick up the slack, Walt!" So, that's exactly what I did. Eventually, some kid walked into the haunted house, so I used all my might to thrust the skeletal hand forward, shrieking at the top of my lungs. Unfortunately, I used to so much force that I knocked over one of the fake windows. So, this kid saw that this entire thing was fake, and he wasn't going to be mentally scarred for life. Son of a b***h.
The true horror came toward the end of the night - when we had to clean everything up. I wasn't going to be mentally scarred by this because I anticipated it. However, I expected it to be much later, perhaps at 10:30 or 11. Instead, clean-up began at 8:30, because that's when the trick-or-treaters stopped coming.
We all were appalled by this. We expected people to come trickling in until 9:30, or perhaps even 10. The streets were deserted, however, by 8:15. Keep in mind that Halloween was on a Friday this year, so it's not like most people had to go to work or school the next day.
If this doesn't sound bizarre to you, say it out loud to yourself: The streets were empty on a Halloween Friday night by 8:15.
What the f***? Seriously. What the f***? When I was a kid, my sister and I would drag my parents around until 10. My friends and I would stay out even later in ensuing years. We made sure we scoured every neighborhood in the vicinity for candy. If I didn't hit a house within a 20-mile radius of my house, it was a failed night. And others agreed, because I remember the streets being jam-packed with kids and their parents until around 9:30 at the very earliest.
So, what happened? Why is no one trick-or-treating beyond 8 p.m.? It's not like this was a local phenomenon because I noticed the same thing last year when my doorbell stopped ringing around that time. I attributed that to the relatively small size of my neighborhood, but there are tons of houses where my girlfriend's parents live. There is absolutely no excuse for people to stop trick-or-treating at 8 o'clock.
Just when I thought things weren't bizarre enough, my girlfriend said something appalling when we walked up to the other haunted house in her neighborhood: One of her co-workers had to leave early that day because Halloween in her area began at 4 p.m. That's because it's "dangerous at night."
Dangerous at night? It's freaking Halloween! It's supposed to be dangerous. That's what I learned from watching Michael Myers slay countless people in those movies. There's supposed to be a sense of peril on Halloween. Sure, you get all of the candy you want, but watch out for the ghouls, goblins and deranged, homicidal maniacs. That's what Halloween is all about - not trick-or-treating in broad daylight. Whoever made this woman's 4 p.m. Halloween rule should be imprisoned for stupidity.
What the hell happened to our society? We all used to be such badasses. Now, everyone inexplicably has turned into a giant p***y. Can't trick-or-treat in the dark! Can't call the Redskins by that name because it might offend one person on this entire planet! Can't cause ruckus on Mischief Night! Why is everyone such a giant, politically correct p***y now? We have indeed turned into a nation of sissies.
Speaking of Mischief Night, there wasn't one hooligan who tried to egg or toilet paper my house. Not one. You don't know how disappointed I was by this. I was waiting by the door, ready to brandish the sword my girlfriend bought me for my birthday (a replica of Jon Snow's sword from Game of Thrones) and chase down the hooligans down the street. Instead, I did no such thing because there was not one act of mischief in my neighborhood on Mischief Night. I was looking forward to attacking people with my sword all year, and my fun was ruined.
It was all ruined because everyone is a giant p***y. Maybe I'll be a giant p***y for Halloween next year. I'll start trick-or-treating at noon and end at 2 because I need to be inside a good four hours before dusk because I'd a giant p***y.
Anyway, you might be wondering why I entitled this entry, Halloween and Orange Juice. To explain that, I'd have to fast forward to the following weekend, when I had a Halloween party at my house. It was a good turnout - an old friend I hadn't seen in a while even stopped by - though in my drunken haze, I seem to recall people spilling stuff on my floor more often than usual.
What should have been the most interesting part of the night wasn't all that great, unfortunately. My girlfriend helped me put fake tattoos on my face for our matching Day of the Dead costumes, but she eventually realized that she was out of cigarettes. She asked me to run over to Wawa to get some despite the fact that I was fully dressed in my Halloween costume. I hesitated for about five seconds, but realized that I could use people's reactions there in this Jerks of the Week entry.
Unfortunately, no one reacted. Wawa wasn't packed, but there were a few customers there. They all looked at me and didn't laugh or say anything. The cashier didn't even crack a smile. I wanted to yell at everyone: "People, I'm dressed like a f***ing Mexican skeleton, can you at least make fun of me, just a little bit!?"
I feel like people would've made fun of me in the past - before everyone transformed into a giant p***y. Giant p***ies wouldn't dare make fun of people dressed like Mexican skeletons a good week after Halloween because laughing or making snide remarks might be offensive to the race of Mexican skeleton people.
I'm telling you, my giant p***y Halloween costume is a terrific idea. I'll even refer to the Redskins as the "Washington football team" like all of the other giant p***ies out there, just so I don't offend the few douche bags who don't understand that the word "Redskins" is a term of endearment rather than a hateful slur.
The following morning, I was tired and hungover on my couch. I just finished a delicious breakfast burrito my girlfriend made, and I washed it down with some orange juice. After looking at some of the college football scores on my laptop, I reclined back on my couch. I remained in that position until I decided that it would be nice to put my feet up on the coffee table.
I spilled the orange juice - all over my laptop! I panicked, while my girlfriend gasped. She ran over and grabbed some paper towels so we could wipe the thing down. It was too late, unfortunately, as the juice seeped through the keyboard.
After we dried it off, my girlfriend suggested that I should save everything. I ran upstairs and found my external hard drive. I made sure to back everything up - beginning with my precious lesbian porn, of course.
My girlfriend came upstairs to see how I was doing, just as I finished storing all of my files.
"The laptop seems to be fine," I said. I then maximized my browser and typed in my Web site - except that it wouldn't work. The "W" key was broken. Instead of typing out that one letter, hitting "W" resulted in "/wd." The enter key wasn't functional either; it would produce an "e" instead of a new line.
I hastily checked for any computer repair stores in my area, and there happened to be one right around the corner. I quickly packed up my laptop and drove over. It was open, but it was empty, and I had to wait forever for a fragile, sickly looking woman to come out from the back. I asked her if I could have my laptop repaired that very day, and she shook her head.
"All of the repair guys are out on assignments, and we don't take any new work after 2 o'clock," she said. I looked at the clock, and it was 2:05.
What the hell does that mean? They don't take any work after 2? It's not like it was Sunday or anything; it was a Saturday afternoon. Did they not want to make money?
Completely frustrated, I wished I had Jon Snow's sword so I could bash her stupid store into pieces. Instead, I asked her if she knew of any other stores in the area. She shrugged her shoulders and suggested Best Buy, but cautioned me by saying that they were expensive. Maybe that's because they work past 2 on Saturdays! Unfortunately,
Best Buy was not an option for me. Best Buy is a hell hole, and I refuse to go back there.
I left the store and got into my car. There had to be another option in my area outside of Best Buy, and sure enough my phone told me that there was another computer repair store just two minutes down the road.
On the ride over, I did some thinking. How did that woman not know about that store? You need to be aware of local competition, so she apparently purposefully declined to tell me about it. She would've rather had me gotten screwed over by Best Buy than seen my problem rectified. So, not only is this store comprised of lazy people; there's also some horrible b***h running the show behind the scenes.
The guy at the second store, who happened to be Russian, told me that he could work on my computer that very day.
Computer Guy: Vhat happen vis your computer?
Me: I spilled orange juice on it, and now the keyboard won't work.
Computer Guy: Oh ho! Orange juice iz vorst drink to spill on computer. Soda bad, but orange juice vorse! Did you eject battery vhen you spill?
Computer Guy looked at me like I was an idiot. "You must eject battery because orange juice can eat sroo computer," he said.
Fortunately, he told me that he could fix my laptop that very day, and he called me a couple of hours later to tell me that everything was fine, except that he needed to order a new keyboard for me. So, I'm waiting on that, and I'm using an external keyboard with my laptop for the time being.
Lesson learned though: I am not drinking orange juice around my laptop ever again. It's just not worth the risk. If that makes me a giant p***y, then so be it.