Katie brought up many good points. Halloween is probably the best holiday ever stolen from the pagans. My Halloween stories are full of adventure, excitement and suspense that could fill the books.
One year after we had sorted and counted out our ten pound bounty, Katie's father, bearing an afro wig, got the urge to smash pumpkins (perhaps nostalgia). You can assume we were more than willing to participate. Now being an upstanding community member he didn't feel comfortable stealing a pumpkin off a front porch, like we were and had done so many times, so we went looking for pumpkins to buy and then smash in the parking lot of the County Market. Genius! By doing this we were no longer breaking any burglary laws, and I suppose we would clean up all the pumpkin pieces when we were done with the smashing ritual, which is preformed by thousands of citizens every Halloween, to prevent the risk of receiving a littering citation.
Much to our dismay, pumpkins are no longer sold on the night of Halloween. By that time they had been packed up in boxes and shipped to the land of post expiration dates. I guess the stores figure, if you don't have a pumpkin yet, you don't need one two hours before the holiday is over. Not one store had a living pumpkin in their possession. Jerry’s IGA, no. Jewel-Osco, no. Not even the ghetto County Market in Downtown Urbana, which we were hoping they had lazy employees who hadn’t taken down the pumpkin displays.
No pumpkins. Now, this would put a damper on most people’s evening. The whole point of our adventure was to smash pumpkins into oblivion. And even though this event never occurred the process of driving from store to store in our costumes, eating more candy then is good for you, singing along to Queen and the Monster Mash on the radio, and laughing so hard we could swear we would pee our pants, was probably more fun than the actual pumpkin demolishing would ever be.
One year after we had sorted and counted out our ten pound bounty, Katie's father, bearing an afro wig, got the urge to smash pumpkins (perhaps nostalgia). You can assume we were more than willing to participate. Now being an upstanding community member he didn't feel comfortable stealing a pumpkin off a front porch, like we were and had done so many times, so we went looking for pumpkins to buy and then smash in the parking lot of the County Market. Genius! By doing this we were no longer breaking any burglary laws, and I suppose we would clean up all the pumpkin pieces when we were done with the smashing ritual, which is preformed by thousands of citizens every Halloween, to prevent the risk of receiving a littering citation.
Much to our dismay, pumpkins are no longer sold on the night of Halloween. By that time they had been packed up in boxes and shipped to the land of post expiration dates. I guess the stores figure, if you don't have a pumpkin yet, you don't need one two hours before the holiday is over. Not one store had a living pumpkin in their possession. Jerry’s IGA, no. Jewel-Osco, no. Not even the ghetto County Market in Downtown Urbana, which we were hoping they had lazy employees who hadn’t taken down the pumpkin displays.
No pumpkins. Now, this would put a damper on most people’s evening. The whole point of our adventure was to smash pumpkins into oblivion. And even though this event never occurred the process of driving from store to store in our costumes, eating more candy then is good for you, singing along to Queen and the Monster Mash on the radio, and laughing so hard we could swear we would pee our pants, was probably more fun than the actual pumpkin demolishing would ever be.
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