Kids and Wigs

My first Halloween living in a non-college town, in a family neighborhood, and in a house meant there was no way to avoid being bombarded by greedy, candy-demanding children. I planned ahead, buying several bags of assorted treats, hoping to keep them at bay and defend my house from juvenile attack. But I failed to take into consideration that I live in Utah, were the average family has at least 20 children. They came in droves, swarms, mobs, with their pudgy little hands outstretched, bags open wide, and fervent expressions on their faces. I could not keep up. At one point, and I kid you not, no less than 40 children showed up simultaneously at my doorstep. Okay, maybe I exaggerate a bit. It was more like 37 or 38. I thought they’d never stop coming. I became less generous in my offerings. Two or three fun-sized candy bars became only one candy bar, became half a candy bar, became a wrapper and slap on the face. In no time, they had completely cleaned me out.

There was nothing to do but turn off my porch light and leave. Luckily I had a party to attend and thus a valid excuse for my escape. Still, getting away from them was like driving through an obstacle course. These children have no fear of death. They dart out in front of cars, wearing black witch costumes that camouflage them in the darkness, then stop and stare like deer caught in headlights. They form long trains, crossing the street, leaving me to stew over thoughts of slamming on the gas and plowing right through them. Thank goodness for busy surface streets. Freedom!

The party was certainly one of the most interesting I’ve ever been to. It was a “live” Clue game. Everyone who was invited was to dress up like one of the characters from the 1988 Master Detective Clue edition, which has four more characters than regular Clue. I came as Monsieur Brunette, a French art dealer. I suppose it fit. I wore a brown wig (since I’m a blonde) and small beard. I doubt I have ever looked more metrosexual.

The game took place in a large, well decorated house that had recently been remodeled. The rooms in the game were based on the rooms in the house. A whole new game board was made, with a photo of each room. The weapons were real, and the character cards had the photos of those in attendance. Everyone looked the part, which made it rather fun. We played the game and it ended up being Mrs. White, with the revolver, in the master bedroom. I was off by one—I thought she did the deed with the lead pipe. But if I learned nothing else that night (and I didn’t), I learned that wigs suck. And so do fake beards. They are itchy, they are sticky, and they are hot. If ever I lose all my hair, I will not get a hairpiece. Bald is beautiful, as they say, and more importantly, bald is comfortable. The wig was worth it though; it was good party. Plus I got to threaten people with a candlestick. Life goal #302, fulfilled.


I'm supposed to look menacing. I just look sad.