A Halloween Bedtime Story

Mia froze, held her breath. Listened.

The encroaching night pressed in on her, warm, humid…silent, the wild thumping of her heart the only sound that broke its canopied darkness. She turned a slow circle, eyes probing the trees and dense underbrush crowding the running trail, alert for the tiniest movement, the rustle of a branch, the turn of a leaf.

She let out her pent breath, along with a nervous laugh. She had only imagined the soft footfalls pacing her, that crisp snap of a twig. Nothing stirred in the moon-dappled shadows.

With a shake of her head, she set off down the path once more in an easy jog. But her mind wasn’t easy; heat knifed between her shoulder blades, as if eyes were boring into her back. The sweat beading her body turned cold. Goose flesh prickled her arms.

More times than she could count, she had run this trail as twilight was bleeding into night. But this was the first time she had felt anxious, almost…afraid. Continue reading “A Halloween Bedtime Story”

Halloween Ball

Kat and I received an elegant invitation
Which at first caused a bit of agitation
Come one, come all
To a Halloween Ball
With costumes sparked by your imagination

Crowded events are not usually high on our list
But attending this affair would help family coexist
Yet making a costume
Makes both of us fume
And as time slipped away the more we got pissed

Perfect costumes aren’t just a matter of choice
They need to speak loudly without using a voice
Speaking, “It’s you!”
Replying, “So true”
And if it does not you will never rejoice

The day of the ball was drawing here quickly
In the pit of our stomachs we felt rather sickly
To get rid of the hex
We had rousing sex
And our costume ideas came rather slickly

I’d go as a penis and she as a pussy
Mine would be stiff and hers rather juicy
She’d touch my knob
I’d start to throb
And we’d dance to the music all loosely-goosey

But what would this do to the family affair?
Some grieving, some leaving, some pulling of hair
Or would they just giggle
When we start to wiggle
Till dear Aunty Fannie plopped out of her chair

Would each of our relatives think us quite rude?
Or would our costume choice cause a family feud?
Or would kith and kin
Succumb to our sin
And strip off their piety with a new attitude?

Would Andy and Randi admit they were gay?
Or would all shout at once with something to say?
Would old folks’ pop pills,
And mothers’ get chills
While drinkin’ and thinkin’ and wantin’ to play?

Could Uncle Sylvester calm Aunt Abigail
Before callin’ the cops for our ride to the jail?
And will cousin Gerty
Keep callin’ us “dirty”
While rubbin’ her crotch on a wrought iron rail?

Will we see all the young men soon start to squirm
While thinking of girls and ways to shoot sperm?
Bulging in pants
For secret romance
Then quick on the trigger, not lasting full-term

But what if our choice causes more than a stir?
Blown out of proportion, all actions a blur
To Grandma a shock
At the costumed cock
While Grandpa keeps strokin’ the fake pussy fur

Maybe our choice of costumes is a bit hasty
Perhaps we need to consider something less tasty
We need to think
So give us a drink
And keep them coming till we’re shit-faced and pasty

No super-heroes and no kids’ fairytales
No clowns or gowns with bloody entrails
No Keystone cops
No preg-o that pops
And no banshee bitch that wickedly wails

No preacher, no teacher, no G.I. olive drab
No horned headed opera singer with lots of flab
I won’t be a boxer
Kat’s not a bobby socks-er
Nor will she be a specimen in a mad scientist’s lab

We think and we ponder perplexed and forlorn
We grumble quite grouchy all tattered and torn
Both of us yell
This is Halloween hell!
Screw the ball; Kat grab the camcorder, let’s fuck and make porn

The Stranger

As a child I spent hour upon hour, day after day, contemplating an alien mystery. My mind’s eye conjured countless images of the elusive being that had the power to change ordinary people into raving lunatics, ravenous beasts, or simply strike them dumb with some strange catatonic malady—after suffering shivering, quivering fits. And the only name I knew it by was Evil-O.

Continue reading “The Stranger”