And Halloween had a happy ending. My son has decided at thirteen he’s too old to trick or treat and too lazy to throw a party. Since I hate Halloween, we agreed to watch a movie together. The earlier part of the evening was spent at a much-more-game neighbor’s house, whose haunted basement almost converted me into liking Halloween. I had a lovely evening drinking and mocking those people who were so young they didn’t know who Vincent Price was. I even dressed up for the holiday.
After a few drinks, I headed home to spend some quality time with my boy, while the girl trick-or-treated and the husband manned the door. The boy wanted to watch a scary movie. I chose the movie.
Boy: It’s in black and white?
Boy: But I wanted a scary movie.
Me: You’ll be scared.
What movie did I pick?
Nothing too scary. An old black-and-white film. I mean, how scary can a black-and-white film be?
At the beginning, the boy said, “This is boring.”
Halfway through, he said, peeking through the blanket, “I think I’m done with this.”
Three-quarters of the way through, he had his head buried in the cushions and he said, “Can we turn this off?”
Me: I thought you wanted scary.
The boy: I wanted scary. Not scary.
Me: But it’s old. How scary could it be?
The boy: You’re old. You’re scary.
I made him watch it till the end. He insisted we watch something funny after to deaden the fear. The girl brought me Reese’s peanut butter cups from trick-or-treating.
I won. I so won. Maybe there’s some hope in this holiday after all.