So. It’s October. And you may have noticed I’m not counting down to Halloween as I have in years past on the blog. I guess I’m a little depressed this year, given the one-year anniversary of my mom’s death coming up. I just don’t really feel like counting down to anything.
Last Halloween was shitty. I have to get this off my chest. I haven’t told this story to anyone. I spent the day at the hospital watching my mom on the dialysis machine as she drifted in and out of consciousness. And consciousness wouldn’t even be the word for it. More like in and out of context, whatever that means. I don’t even know what that means.
I had a terrible head cold. I stopped at Big Lots on the way home from the hospital to buy extra candy in case I didn’t have enough for the trick-or-treaters. I bought the world’s WORST EVER GENERIC bag of candy. It was the world’s cheapest, most rock-bottom, gutter crackhead candy. Seriously, it was personally hand-picked by Satan out of the dumpster. It was the only thing that was left.
I was also breaking down in Big Lots. Losing my mind. Fighting back tears, or really, it was beyond that. It was that point where you’re fighting back gigantic gulps of air. I was nearly shaking. I needed to cauterize it IMMEDIATELY. So I did what any reasonable person would do in this situation — I bought a ten-pound gingerbread man cookie.
Whoa. I know. Stay with me folks.
It worked. The fact that ten-pound gingerbread cookies existed shocked my brain enough to get it off the fact that my mom was dying. I just remember standing at the register with my bloodshot eyes, shaking hands, sniffling nose, a ten pound cookie, and Satan’s candy, knowing that I looked like the saddest human being ever that day in Big Lots.
The story gets worse. It rained. We barely got any trick-or-treaters. I did not need that crackhead candy at all. I had tons of candy leftover, like basically, all of it. I kept the chocolates and good stuff for myself, but man, I needed to get rid of that crackhead candy. Pronto. It felt like disposing of a body.
The next day I thought I might give the candy to my mom’s nurses. Except none of the nurses could even look me in the eye. They don’t look you in the eye when your mom is dying. They were all so cold and sterile. They just hope to go about their workday as quickly as possible.
So I pawned it off on my friend, casually, without really mentioning it. Like, hey man, I got all this extra candy. You want it? And he took it happily, until he got home and realized it was filled with ROCK HARD STALE Sugar Daddies and off-brand gum with the wrappers half hanging off. It was a terrible thing to do to a friend.
Then there was still that ten pound gingerbread man cookie, which ended up taunting me straight through December, when I finally worked up the nerve to toss it. Just… just fuck that cookie. I don’t have anything else to say about that.
Phew. That was last Halloween. Ugh. And now you know why I’m not counting down this year. I just can’t. However, that doesn’t mean I haven’t been hoarding and stocking up on Halloween stuff as usual. In fact, it’s the power of this crap that’s breaking through my depression.
For instance, this:
Candy Corn Pebbles and TrueMoo Orange Scream. This is easily the most exciting thing to happen to me in months. I mean, after my son being born of course. My life happiness list currently looks like this:
1. Son born
2. Candy corn pebbles
3. Orange flavored milk
People, I don’t even like milk. I hate milk! But orange milk in October is somehow the greatest thing ever to me, enough to bust through my wall of depression. And the verdict? It’s actually very very tasty! And as for Candy Corn Pebbles, well, they taste like a failed cereal idea. DON’T CARE. I LOVE THEM.
So it’s October. And so that’s kind of how it’s going for me.