I just had such a fight with Frank the super over, why the kids in the building, can’t knock on friendly doors, like in the good old days.
“It ain’t safe,” said he…
“Older tenants are afraid to let people roam the floors.”
“You mean, short people that are under 9? Ya think maybe they’ll hide a bomb in their goodie bag? Hmm, why didn’t I think of that. Even ISIS would get a kick outta that one.”
“Hey, I’m just the super followin orders. If ya want, leave some candy downstairs and who’s eva on the door, will hand it out.”
Oh did that just get my Italian perkin like a double edged espresso.
Kids love Halloween. I was one of them. Even though my mother made me either a beatnik or a bum in basically the same outfit, I loved going from house to house. From Mrs. Pivorotto’s to Mrs. Clancy’s, over to the Walter’s, Dernfield’s, Bliar’s, Monaghan’s, Ruggiero’s, wrapping up with Mary Pendegast who let you dip in her basket twice which was how she got the name, Double Dip Mary.
I mean, it was the one time a year all bets were off, candy wise.
Half the fun was saying, trick or treat…whaddya got good ta eat.
Letting Al, or Mike the doorman fill up those bags like they were delivering mail, just won’t be the same.
Wish I had known sooner, Norma Rae would have made a special appearance.
Well, there’s always next year.
As for me, I’m going out as Carmela the Bassett Hound, wearing a long tube top over tights with a very frisky tail that matches my ears I made from brown polo socks. I’ve been practicing my wiggle all week.
See, even big people love Halloween.