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Halloween has snuck up on me like a sleek, black cat on silent feet...or a silent, slithering snake...or an unusually stealthy and well coordinated flesh eating zombie wearing bedroom slippers. However it did it, it snuck up on me when I wasn't looking – and here it is.
I always loved Halloween, not because of the spooky stuff and the candy, but because I loved creating costumes and dressing up. I made some totally awesome costumes over the years for myself, my friends and family, my kids, my nieces and nephews, other people's kids, and several people I can't remember. I would have created costumes for the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker if they had asked me to, although, I have no idea whatsoever how I would have made a believable candlestick maker now that I think about it. Something covered in spattered wax, I guess.
Regardless, I have made many, many costumes over the years and I have come to observe a pattern. Some little girls, (and older ones), refuse to be anything that does not in some manner resemble a princess. Some of these girls, when they become teenagers and young adults, go from princesses to something resembling a costume for strippers, but that's another story. There are boys who refuse to be anything that isn't hideous and associated with dark and evil things, and some boys who will only be heroes. Both my sons were like that. They liked being super heroes and characters from Star Wars, (the ones not on the dark side), and other heroic characters from fiction and fantasy. I sewed lots of animal costumes for little girls over the years; some little girls just love being animals. I made vampire costumes and mummy costumes and every other standard Halloween character you can think of. I've created Egyptian kings and queens, Roman centurions and senators, Greek gods, warriors, soldiers, and comic book heroes. You may ask yourself, so how come I never figured out a way to make money as a costumer to people who are not the stars? It's a reasonable question but I don't have an answer, which is probably one of the reasons I never found a way to make money at it.
This year my son, Chuck, is going to a party. When young people get to a certain age they either want the simplest costume they can possible dream up, or something very specific, very complicated, and invariably, very expensive. When Chuck told me that he was going to a party I fully expected him to ask me to create a full set of futuristic armor or something equally impossible without a source of metal and a blow torch. I was wrong. When I asked him what he wanted to be for the Halloween party he told me that he was pondering the most evil thing he could think of. This kind of surprised me since he has always been all about the heroes since he was young and has never shown any interest in being anything even remotely evil. He told me that he would get back to me on his decision.
A few days later he told me that he had made up his mind and would require certain items.
“I'm going as the most evil think I can think of.”
“Darth Vader?” I asked. He and his brother are freely admitted Star Wars Nerds.
“Nope,” he said. “Something far worse.”
Worse than Darth Vader? Attilla the Hun? Adolph Hitler? That serial killer from that movie who had a thing for the lady FBI agent and ate people? Paris Hilton?
“I need a suit and tie, lots of play money of high denominations, a briefcase, and a pair of demon horns.” he told me. I asked him if he was going to the party dressed as a devil in Monte Carlo, and if so, shouldn't he be sporting a nifty little goatee and carrying a pitchfork?
“I'm going to be a Wall Street Hedge Fund Manager,” he informed me. “I'll tell people that the treat is that if they give me their candy I will either invest it for them and give them a return rate of 25% in a year, or put it in my secret candy account in the Cayman Islands where it will gain interest for me while I crash the economy and they lose their house, their cars, their IRA's, and their kids' college funds whilst I walk away scott free with my golden parachute.”
Alrighty then. A child of his generation. More specifically, a child of his generation who pays attention to the news. I told him that it didn't seem like much of a choice.
“Was it ever?” he asked.
Good question.
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