Monday, November 2, 2009
Every year there are some fabulous festivities surrounding Halloween here in Frenchboro. There's a community party, a haunted hayride, trick or treating, and our school party. Here we are putting up decorations in the community building (aka: Giant Garage) to make it a little more festive and a lot less giant-garage-like. There were games like the Wrap The Teacher In 4 Rolls Of Toilet Paper race which had something to do with mummies but felt like I was being swaddled for a Christmas play, and the pie eating contest which really is whipped cream and who doesn't like sucking down mounds of whipped cream in one sitting, so is that really a contest?, and of course the eyeball on the spoon and my least favorite: bobbing for apples. One word: spittle. Yikes. Even as a kid and much less squeamish than I am today, I had some tiny issues with this event. Namely, sucking other people's drool into my mouth. Sometimes you could even see strands of it in the water, swaying back and forth like sea weed. Sigh. I'd just beg to go first. Me! Choose ME! I think they thought that I was ultra-excited.
This year I slipped out before the spittoon event as I had to be a SCARER for the haunted hayride. Isn't that delicious? A SCARER. I just love it. My mom, after telling her my part in the haunted hayride said, and I quote, "You are just diabolical!" Wow. I've never been called that before.
This hayride ain't for wusses. We have two hayrides actually. One for the little ones and the faint of heart (Marlys-you should have gone on this ride...) and the second ride which is a 'you'd better watch out' no holds barred scare the pants off 'em event. This is how it went:
Ski drove the truck pulling the trailer covered with haybails and loads of giggling, screaming kids (and a few parents for moral support) down toward the pit. Isn't that great? The pit. Just that alone sounds scary. Down through the woods slowly, with only the parking lights in front for lots of spooky darkness, past a farm scene with an actual pig's head (sorry, Snort) and dead rooster, past disembodied heads that spoke and a creepy animated guy who takes his face off (all powered by generators tucked into the woods), past the graveyard scene and wicked witch stirring the cauldron. There was even a wrecked car with body parts hanging from it. I would find that rather scary, all of those things, because I am, as aforementioned, one of those wusses (who barely survived the last hayride...and thank you Austin, again, for not peeing on me).
But...then there are the SCARERS. Mostly dads, these folks dress up in those terrifying masks and face paints (think: evil clown with sharp, pointy teeth) and hide in the trees along the route, jumping out and grabbing kids, all the while bellowing maniacally. This is seriously freaky. I know because last year I kept getting thrown to the bed of the trailer by the flailing arms of panicking kids.
This year, I was the specter of death. A great mask, cowl and all, with a big black cape. I hid behind one of the fake gravestones and rose up as they past. Then, all theatrics aside, I ran like crazy through the woods to get ahead of the truck so I could pull the ghost up and down on it's pulley above the trailer when it was underfoot. Toward the end, one of the dads actually removed a child from the hayride, pulling him off, yelling, "Who've I got??!" Myron was so freaked out there was no way he was telling him his name! Right after that, my husband, bless him, took the chain off the chainsaw and ran after the trailer. Next year, maybe we should hand out Depends.