So-Cal Spooky

The sidewalk churns with noise and movement, squawking, squealing oddities dragging bags of plunder. Mini-vans pull up like so many circus clown cars, wee weirdos piling out to join the swarm. Too many monsters...it's crawling with rugrats...where did they all come from? All this for a snickers bar?

Never in my life have I seen such commotion as on Halloween night in my neighborhood. The monsters grow with the darkness, little Pooh Bears and bumble bees waddle about as the sun sets, while tall hobos and slick cheerleaders party late into this unholiest of nights.

Why is the sky blue? How does Santa deliver all those toys? These questions pale next to "Why do we have to dress up and go door to door when you already bought 53 pounds of candy? Mom, just turn the lights off and have a KitKat."

I have no good answer for that, but my boys placate me and attempt costumes. Last year, my oldest was a decent version of the headless horseman, using my Australian oilcoat buttoned up over his head. His younger brother decided that he would be the headless horseman's seeing-eye dog. One block and several bruised shins later, they figured out that a shaggy sheep dog costume, with its long fur and bushy brows, did not make the best seeing-eye dog.

This year one will be a gorilla. The other wants to be a streaker. I'm going to turn the lights off and have a KitKat.