You freaks piss me off

First off, at some point, it is retarded for adults to celebrate Halloween. Seriously, costumes after age 7 is just silly, after age 23, it's generally a sign of pedophilia. Now, I am all for fake holidays. Just last Valentines Day I purchased a huge heart shaped box of chocolates and gave them to Becky, who in turn thought enough of me to downgrade our relationship from friends with benefits to friends with texting.

Just as the sun was setting yesterday, which is you would be nice enough to check your calendars, you would notice was October 29th, some little street urchins wandered up to my door and said "Trick or Treat sir." I gave them some candy. I then did what I thought any right thinking adult in such a situation would do. I turned off all the lights in the house, turned on the burglar alarm, took a long hot shower, shaved, called the Professor and went on a date.

When did parents begin taking children on the candy run two days in advance of the 31st? How could this happen? How do you even justify it? Do you just have an inkling for some bite sized sugar blobs and you are too lazy to go to the corner store? I do not celebrate Halloween, never have, never will. I once dated a witch, learned my lesson, enough said.

Well, not nearly enough. Here's the thing about dating a witch, oh sure, a witch is not just magic and freaky and willing, if you know what I mean, but also with the freaky secret potions and stuff, things go from wild to super wild with a sip of frogs wart and mink tea like you would not believe. Here is what you never think about. When someone has a flying broom, what do you do with said broom when you are trying to sleep? Yeah, think about that.

So, I am not the sort of person who complains about much, but the date with the professor went from banal to sublime when I was foolish enough to ask if there were any exams I might be able to help grade. I ended up driving down Liberty by myself around 11PM last night and at a red light I looked over to the car on my left, where I noticed the driver was indeed a zombie. Oh, I thought, zombies no longer wander the frigid streets looking for brains, they now drive Ford Focus sedans listening to Lady Gaga. Fabulous. I think the zombie made eye contact, realized that I too had made some sort of eye contact and at the next light I was prepared to document the interaction via my cellphone camera.

Lucky for me I rolled up to another red light a few blocks later and I snuck my camera up to the window and pointed it at the zombie and flashed a picture. I did not want to look at the zombie, I did not want to acknowledge the zombies presence. I have seen just enough zombie related movie to know that if you look at them just enough times they begin to lust after eating your delicious brain, and lord knows my brain has a particular taste that zombies have feasted on often. Then the car next to me rolled forward and I realized it was not the Ford Focus sedan that had held the zombie. No, this was a newer Mercedes with an elderly and feeble man in the passenger seat, staring at me, Sadly, pleadingly looking at me as if my lone camera shot had somehow stolen what remained of his faltering soul. He stared at me until the light changed, almost begging me with his eyes to explain why I found it necessary to take his picture like that, all secretively and everything. Shamefully I gunned it when the light turned green and raced home.

This is why I hate halloween.