Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Slutty Halloween Costume Suggestions

For many folks, Halloween is the time to dress up as your sexiest fantasy. And every year I see more and more ads for women's costumes that start with the word "slutty." So, you can be a slutty this or a slutty that. Ladies, if you still haven't decided what kind of slut to dress as this year, here are some suggestions.

"I've always wanted to lay down the law."

"Let me be your mystery meat."

"You are such a hoe."

"You can hold my baton any time you want."

"You'll be the death of me yet."

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Telling Scary Stories

Time: 1986
Place: Atlanta, GA

One Halloween night, I drove to a cemetery with my girlfriend, Meg, and her little sister, Jen. Our plan was to sit among the graves, eat fast food, and tell scary stories.

We found a nice slab of concrete to sit on and were half way through our burgers when we decided that the location was a bad idea. First of all, it was too spooky. Every odd noise caused by the wind or a passing squirrel sounded much more ominous than it actually was.

We were also disturbed by this creepy old guy walking around the graves with a rake. He didn’t scare us because we imagined that he was a crazed killer out to rake his victims to death. He scared us because we imagined that he might be an employee of the cemetery about to pounce on us at any second to inform us that we were trespassing.

So, Meg, Jen, and I took our food and got into my car. Parked next to the cemetery telling scary stories would just have to do.

We took turns telling stories. On my turn, I told a story I’d heard on a camping trip when I was eight years old. Sitting around a campfire at night, a counselor had told us little campers the story of the Bird Boy. I’d forgotten many of the details over the years, but remembered the gist of it.

Seems there was a family that lived deep in the woods. The mother had passed away, leaving a father and four sons. They were a rugged group of men, except for the youngest son who had been the mother’s favorite. He was more frail and sensitive. While the father and the brothers loved to hunt, he treated the woodland creatures as pets, especially the birds. He had such an affinity for birds that the others nicknamed him “Bird Boy.”

To show their disdain for Bird Boy, the brothers trapped and mutilated a flock of birds and left their remains for him to find. Bird Boy was so upset, that he ran away. Months passed and no sign of Bird Boy. The father and the brothers were glad he was no longer a burden on them.

But then, one of the brothers disappeared. For days, the others searched for him. After a fruitless day of searching, they came home to find his corpse next to the house. He had been mutilated the same way that the birds had been mutilated. Bird Boy had returned and was seeking revenge.

The father and two remaining sons were not going to wait for Bird Boy to pick them off one by one. They armed themselves with guns and hatchets and went into the woods to find Bird Boy.

They tracked him down to a cave deep in the forest. The cave split into three tunnels. The father and each son took a tunnel each. Every ten minutes, they stopped and called out to each other. So, here in the story, the father calls out to each of this sons.

Father: “You there?”
First Son: “I’m here.”
Father: “You there?”
Second Son: “I’m here.”

But then during the next ten minutes, the father hears screams.

Father: “You there?”
First Son: “I’m here.”
Father: “You there?”
Father: “You there?”

We assume the second son has met a horrible death.
They continued down the tunnels for another ten minutes, during which the father hears more horrifying screams.

Father: “You there?”
Father: “You there?”

The father is alone.

The tunnel opens up into a wide high ceiling cave. There is an underground stream. Anchored on the stream is a boat. There are hundreds of birds. A man comes out of the boat. He is covered in feathers and has crude handmade wings attached to his back. He has a wooden beak tied to his mouth. He is the Bird Boy. He sees the father and points. The birds begin to fly. The father is ready to fight to the death. And….

And this is where the counselor screamed.

And this is where I was going to scream, but I never got the chance.

Meg, knowing how these scary stories work, turned her head just as I was working up to the climax and looked out the back window of the car. She shouted, “Omigawd, he’s after us!” Then she screamed.

Jen screamed. I screamed and my hand jerked so hard that I covered the ceiling of my car with soda from the cup I was holding.

Jen and I looked out the back window to see who or what was coming after us, but there was nothing there. Meg was laughing her ass off at us.

“Gotcha!” Meg said.

Monday, October 12, 2009

A world disturbed into brilliance

J was part of a book festival in Nashville. Her session was held in the Senate Chambers of the Tennessee State Capitol. She and her fellow panel member stood at the head of the chamber and the audience sat at the Senator’s desks facing them.

I took this photo of this simple sentence written on the blotter atop one of the Senators’ desks. “A world disturbed into brilliance.”

I don’t know if it’s a quote or a line from a book or just a moment of inspiration. I looked online and found nothing. If someone out there knows the origin of this statement, please let me know.