Friday, August 29, 2008

Who's Corp? Hardcore!

tiny hand grasps schlong
as small boy poops in the yard
at least he hid that!


So I plan to dress up in the tutu and just walk around without the kids this halloween. Halloween has always been a great time, and it made me reminisce about the only good times we all shared in my childhood.

During the 1980s we lived in various places, all of them being in Westport. Mr. Z's was still the most awesome convenience store on the planet, Volker park was where you could go watch the emo guys sit and not care about anything, their dark mascara and popped collars belieing a hatred of their own father, gentle sounds of the Cure wafting up from an unseen boombox as everyone made sure their Thriller jacket was on prominent display...

Wait that is how it still is.

Anyway, Halloween always meant Smeagol would allow us to tag along with him for a little while, at least until his buddies showed up, when he would push us down and take our candy, disappearing into the night. I was 6 and JJ was 4, I was no longer a virgin, having bedded my babysitter numerous times (score!) and was the most awesome Scorpions drill team member to date (more on that later)

We would spend the evening "getting culture" at a local cemetary, then whatever my mother decided we would be we would dress up as, and it was usually something gay, like one year she made us dress up as girls, and not just any girls, hookers (great for a 8 year old, huh?). We would then get dropped off at Southwest Trafficway and 39th, and my parents would meet us at 39th and Rainbow. We were expected to go up and down each backwoods, weird looking house, dirt path, large foreboding faux mansion with the weird guy who had a beard, stringy hair and was a little too eager to give us candy in the region, and we did. How JJ and I, along with my sister, who was always with us, managed to avoid molestation is STILL beyond me.

We would have my sister wait with a trash bag, and go up and down the block alone, trick or treating. Once we finished, we would dump our candy and pretend we were starting over, looking appropriately pathetic and thus getting more candy or other crap. Smeagol would come by, 5 or 6 pumpkin pails full of other kids' candy, and dump them in our bag, push us down again and walk off with his buddy, skateboards and rolled up sleeves in full display. We idolized that raptor, and he let us down.

Once home, Mom and Dad would go through the candy to make sure it was safe, give us each 1 piece, and put the candy in their closet behind the X-rated movies and assorted dildos and such. It usually took us about 2 weeks until we worked up the courage to brave the dildo fields, stalactites of blunt vag scent rubbing vigorously into our clothes as we excitedly clamored over them to get to the candy, and by then Smeagol had already ravaged everything but the damn peanut butter taffy and Smarties...

I dunno, I miss those times... we looked up to Smeagol, which in essence made us lame, but back then he could still defeat us in physical combat, so not all that unwarranted...

Monday, maybe more on other topics, and a little more on drill team.

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