It’s that time of year again, loyal readers. It’s not just the time when we’re nearly choked by pumpkin stench from our millions of gutted gourds in typically American fuck-you defiance of world hunger, but also a time when 10-year-old girls get to dress like whores and pimp candy from us. A pervert’s dream come true, Halloween is upon us like grandpa’s hand on a drunken Easter Sunday, so I thought I’d lay some ground-rules.
First off, let me just state for the record that I’ll be giving out two kinds of treats this year. For the good, lovable children who follow these ground rules, I’ll be giving out sweet, sweet Snickers bars. For the insolent little fuckwits who defy the laws of decency and common sense, I will be handing out sweet, sweet treats of cramping and explosive diarrhea, disguised as Snickers bars. I can do this because I have access to animal laxatives. Don’t fuck with me. Or my dog (who will be dressed as either a Storm Trooper or a Medieval knight). Or my pumpkins (that will be carved cunningly).
Scary!
THE SPOOKTACULAR RULES:
1) You better not be dressed as some over-complicated shit that it takes you a half hour to explain. Really, I’m not here to be impressed by your freaky tween knowledge of Samurai culture. I mean, I’m sorry you’re home-schooled, we’re all sorry, really, but there is little I can do to help you at this late date, son. You’ve got the time it takes me to plunk a razor-filled popcorn ball in your sack before losing my interest and incurring my wrath, so chop-chop. “12th-level Paladin with what-the-balls-all powers and a magic whosit?” NO. You’re a goddamn warrior. End of story. I don’t give a tinker’s damn how many books you’ve read about it.
2) If you were born in the 1990s, you don’t get to dress as anyone from the 1980s. That means no Han Solos, no cone-wearing Madonnas, no Thundercats, no Breakfast Clubbers and absolutely NO NINJA TURTLES (I cannot believe I have to say this). Just say no, kids. You weren’t alive when these things were around and popular, ergo your sense of irony cannot possibly be operating at full capacity. It will only creep me out to see Mini-Me versions of Molly Ringwald and Liono. If I see a single Ninja Turtle on his cell phone, I will throw my Sarah Palin pumpkin at your tiny, 1990s-era skull. Thanks for being considerate of my considerable curmudgeonry on this point. If it makes you feel better, my mother never let me out of the house as either Daisy Duke or John Travolta from the 1970s, so I can feel your pain.
3) Emo kids: Ripped fishnet leggings or manitards that you include in your sad, bat-loving everyday wardrobe will not constitute a costume, thus you will be given laxative candy. I hope you shit all over your black soul of a wardrobe. Oh, you added Hot Topic devil/fairy wings? Or an oh-so-ironic tutu? Fuck no, punks. At least channel a famous emo person, like Edie Sedgewick. Hell, will someone please go as Hunter S. Thompson or one of the girls from Mad Men? I’d be willing to shell out TWO Snickers bars for that kind of effort.
4) I’m only going to say this once, so pay attention: NO WHORES. What the hell is the matter with you parents, letting your daughter go out of the house as a slutty school girl when she is still, in fact, an actual school girl?! And some of the slutty combos just don’t make any damn sense. Slutty bear? What the hell?! Why not a slutty porcupine? How about a slutty dwarf? Just because you make something “slutty” doesn’t make it any less bizarre. Stop confusing them. Children are our slutty future.
5) While you should not have spent more than 3 consecutive hours on face and body paint to make your Halloween magic happen, nor should you spend merely 3 minutes. A ghost? You cut holes out of a sheet? Really? Fuck off, Charlie Brown. Grow some real man-nuggets and make an attempt to look less than criminally retarded on the one day of the year you can dress up without looking like one of the boys never chosen for the kick-ball team.
6) Special note to the crazed Christian home-schooler who came by last year: I still don’t get your “Dinosaur Hunter” costume. I get that you were Jesus with a rifle, but the rest is still a mystery. The hair glitter? The blood splotches? The dinosaur pelt at your waist? Don’t wear it again this year or my head will explode. And don’t come as anything else biblically oriented. I’m already terrified of your spooky-as-hell parents. Why do they even let you do Halloween, anyhow? If you were my kid, I’d lock you in the basement.
7) This last rule is for the belligerently asinine parents who think it’s ok to dress up in tandem with their kid’s costume or, worse, as a giant version of their kid’s costume. Lady, the pumpkin outfit is just not flattering. On ANYONE. And you ain’t Heidi Klum. Enormous dad with bitch tits who has opted to scare the living daylights out of everyone possible in his bright pink Cheshire Cat body paint “ensemble” to accompany his must-be-blind little Alice in Wonderland? Get your goddamn head examined. Why is there not a judge physically wrestling you away from any living offspring? The Michael Myers and Mom Costume combo is about the only one I’m willing to publically endorse, for sheer creativity and for economy — they shared the hockey mask back and forth. Clever.
Alrighty. That about covers it. Don’t bring eggs. I know where you live, underage dumbasses. It’s a townhouse development of 40 homes. Trust that I am aware of your living quarters. Assume also that I’m on speaking terms with your folks… unless they’re the tool-boxes wandering around as pumpkins and shit. If we can simply come to an accord at this, the most wonderful time of the year (celebrating the birth of demon worship in the form of crappy bagged candy with hordes of underage hookers) then I promise not to try and fuck up your lower intestinal track.
Not this year, anyway.
I say give out the laxa-candy anyway. Though that could be the sadist in me speaking.
It’s not really a big deal where I live, so I just tend to invite anyone who knocks on my door in for a beer or a cone.
These rules are too hard to follow. I’m showing up as Slutty Samurai Han Solo. And if you give me laxative candy, I’ll poop on your porch.
@Matt: That’s the spirit!
@Phem: You poop on my porch, I throw my Sarah Palin jack-o-lantern at you. Also, you’re allowed to dress up as Han. You were born in the 70s.
Sorcia- I am coming to your house for Halloween…and I can’t belive you set out all those rules. I would love to see any of those costumes, especially the dinaosaur hunter- Jesus with a rifle!
@operatorla: You are totally welcome to come to my house and help enforce the rules. And yes, Dinosaur hunter is HILARIOUS the first year. I just worry about twice in a row. That indicates more of a mental illness than a costume, I’m imagining.
I would just like to say thank you from all the constipated devil children in your neighborhood.Being evil can really back you up!
@ Listy: LOL! Right? The clear corollary to evil behavior is a lack of evacuation when you need it.
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I’m having the hardest time with my costume. My imagination far outsteps my crafting abilities. I should have gone with Slutty Bear!!
@ Jelly Kean: Hey, why not a slutty GHOSTBUSTER?!
Not even kidding –
http://www.buycostumes.com/Secret-Wishes-Ghostbuster-Sexy-Adult-Costume/31456/ProductDetail.aspx
Holy crap that is awesome and hideous all at the same time.
@ JK: Right?! I didn’t know if I wanted to buy it or burn it.
Funnneee! (that’s all I can really add to the discussion at the moment, I shit myself laughing)
[...] of brown people, Christ-like and otherwise, Halloween was a bit of a let-down. My rules must have been too hard-core, as only two groups of kids came by. One girl was an indiscernible [...]
@ Chris: Look at you, bringing new meaning to the phrase “shits and giggles” !
[...] Truly Scary Halloween Costumes 28 10 2009 Well Sass-fans, it’s that time of year again. Yes, once more we’ll be confronted with a horde of ever-increasing pudgy children, faces smeared with goo and one hand already on their trusty toilet-paper roll for when you fail to give up the goods (read: MOTHERFUCKING CANDY). As my crack dealer is always telling me, you can’t have too much of a good thing, so I’m totally behind the acquisition of candy with little regard for human life. For those of you who don’t keep these printed out for easy reference, here’s my helpful Halloween Rules. [...]