I was in the middle of working yesterday when a funny memory came to my head; must have been something I heard on the TV or the radio.
It was from years and years ago when I was a kid still living in my old neighborhood, which, by the way, looks nothing like it did between the sweet and tender, but perhaps not so innocent ages of 1 and 25. I was just through there the other night giving a friend of ours a tour of my old stomping grounds.
Anyway, it was around Halloween (and by this point, if my sister is reading this she already knows where I’m going with this) and I was out gallivanting, either playing Hot Wheels with my friend Roger, or getting into some mischief or other with Stevie or perhaps even coming home from the A&P. Maybe I was buying a box of Mr. Bubble or a Spanish Bar cake.
Recently I’ve been seeing these big SUV truck things that are brown or a deep burgundy with a white roof, I think it’s the Toyota FJ Cruiser, and I noted how it reminded me of the Jane Parker Spanish Bar cake we used to buy at the A&P. I also remember that it in my family it ended up being called a “dried grape cake” because my sister didn’t like the idea of the cake having raisins in it, but she enjoyed the dried grapes. As a matter of fact, just the other night, after dinner with my mother, Ariel and I drove to the only A&P I know of in the area to get one and lo and behold… none to be had. So, I don’t know if they still make them or not, but this store didn’t have them. And I didn’t want to spend much time in there as the “element” was on the seedy side and I thought, gosh, look what’s become of the integrity of the A&P, much like you’re probably thinking gosh, what’s become of the point of this blog? But really, don’t you see how one could remind me of the other?
So, I’m walking home and it’s dark out and I pass this one particular house where the people were, let’s say unique (colorful, odd, strange, screwy, peculiar, scary are all acceptable adjectives) and I noticed someone sitting in a chair on the flat roof of the carport and from the size of his head, it looked like a huge pumpkin. I remember the hairs on my arms stood up from the shock of the sight but then it didn’t surprise me since that was the house on the block that was usually the target on mischief night so, he, BG (that’s all I’ll give you) was probably sitting vigil atop the garage guarding against hurling eggs or whatever.
I ran home and was hysterical telling the story of how BG was sitting on his roof dressed as a pumpkin. We all laughed and laughed. And I have a sneaking suspicion by now we’re still laughing.
Well, as it turns out, it really was a stuffed “scarecrow” of sorts, propped up in a lawn chair on the garage with a huge pumpkin head; a bonafide Halloween decoration. Whoops!
And just how hot is the dickens anyway?