PORFLE'S SUPER WAL-MART AND T-REX HALLOWEEN NIGHTMARE

One thing I've discovered about Super Wal-Mart--their salespeople are woefully inadequate when it comes to helping me pick out a suitable Halloween costume. 

In fact, it took me several minutes just to find someone I recognized as an employee.  He was hiding in the gardening department behind a stack of fertilizer, pretending to do something like they always do, so I pressed him into service as my Halloween "tailor", as it were, in order for him to meet my needs as a customer.

"I want to dress up as the Tyrannosaurus Rex from JURASSIC PARK," I announced.  To demonstrate my sincerity, I crouched into my patented dinosaur position and emitted a frightening growl, clawing the air with my "talons."

"We don't have any Tyrannosaurus Rex costumes," he said.  Without even looking.  I mean, it was as though this guy wanted me to believe that he had memorized every costume they did or didn't have. 

"What the hell do you mean, you don't have any Tyrannosaurus Rex costumes?" I countered, inching forward in my dinosaur crouch in order to intimidate him. 

"Look," the guy said, "all's we got is what you see here."  He waved his hand over a display of costumes ranging from "Sparkly 'Twilight' Vampire" to "Random 'Harry Potter' Character" to assorted princesses, pirates, game show hosts, etc.  There wasn't a single Tyrannosaurus Rex costume on the whole blooming rack!

"I WANNA BE A TYRANNOSAURUS REX!!!" I screamed in sudden rage, jumping up and down and pumping my fists.  He simply stared at me, nonplussed, so I continued to do this until a big guy from store security came over and asked what the problem was.  I was beyond verbal communication by that point, so I pointed at the salesguy and the costumes, and did my dinosaur crouch again, and then continued jumping up and down screaming, "I WANNA BE A TYRANNOSAURUS REX!!!"  Only by this time the words were garbled into something that sounded like "ARR GARR BAR RAR RARR RARRRRR!!!"

The security guy made a threatening move toward me, so I ducked out of his grasp and ran down the aisle.  Other customers were staring at me wide-eyed, obviously sympathetic to my plight and afraid that some simple request on their part might also result in them being persecuted for no reason. 

Regaining my ability to speak, I darted from person to person as I ran, grabbing them by the shoulders and screaming "DON'T ASK FOR TYRANNOSAURUS REX COSTUMES!!!" into each of their terrified faces.  Thank goodness my warning seemed to work, since several of them immediately ran away.

Upon reaching the electronics section, I whipped around resolutely and prepared to face my pursuers.  At first it seemed as though they were no longer chasing me.  I knew better, though, reasoning that they must be circling around for a sneak attack from one of the side aisles. 

Easing behind a DVD rack, I took the opportunity to check and see if any new "Pippi Longstocking" DVDs had come in that month.  They hadn't.  In fact, I couldn't remember ever seeing any except for those crappy recent ones that never got the character right like the authentic Swedish versions from the 70s did, and should burn in hell.

A saleslady walked by, so I asked, in my most polite voice, "Excuse me, are you expecting any new 'Pippi Longstocking' DVDs any time soon?  And I don't mean those crappy recent ones that never get the character right and should burn in hell, but the authentic Swedish versions from the 70s."  In order to better convey what I was talking about, I began to brightly croon Pippi's theme song while doing the Pippi dance. "I am Pippi Longstocking, a-hope and a-hey and a-hope sha-naaa!"

The saleslady stood there and watched until I came to the big finish, which involved a final hop-skip dance step into a frozen pose with the usual hand flourishes and big toothy smile.  "Uhh," she said at last.  "I don't think we have any of those."

"I know you don't have any," I said calmly, with only a small, controlled sigh betraying my annoyance.  "What I'm asking is, are you going to get any?"

"I don't know," she said nervously.

"Well then," I said patiently, changing the subject.  "Are you going to get any Tyrannosaurus Rex costumes?"

"Any what?"

"TYRANNOSAURUS REX COSTUMES!!!" I shrieked.  "ARE YOU GOING TO GET ANY FREAKING TYRANNOSAURUS REX COSTUMES, YOU FREAKING COW!!!" 

The saleslady screamed in terror, and suddenly the security guy and the fertilizer guy were after me again.  I scrambled down the main aisle that cut through the middle of the store and careened into the grocery section, flinging potatoes and heads of lettuce behind me.  But as soon as I turned the next corner, I spotted several uniformed policemen moving in from the frozen foods section.  I was trapped!

Looking around, I spied a large cardboard cutout standing next to a Kool-Aid display.  I darted behind it and waited for my pursuers to run past, chattering about how they were going to "catch that guy."  And I was that guy!  Me, an unflinchingly loyal Super-Walmart customer whose only crime was wanting a damn Tyrannosaurus Rex costume! 

Fear and indignation merged within my roiling breast as the unfairness of the situation began to consume me with a surge of manic intensity.  "GRRRRRRR!!!" I growled, grabbing the cardboard cutout in both hands and holding it in front of me as I charged my way out of the store.

It wasn't until I watched the video footage of the incident on the news that night that I discovered the cardboard cutout was--in one of those funny coincidences--a Tyrannosaurus Rex from JURASSIC PARK which was part of their commercial tie-in with Kool-Aid.  Since my anger had reduced me to non-verbal status again, the rampaging cardboard dinosaur seemed to roar "ARR GARR BAR RAR RARR RAAARRRRR!!!" as it crashed its way through the store and out the front door, with the security guy, the fertilizer guy, and the saleslady all running for their lives along with the rest of the screaming customers. 

Again, I hadn't realized exactly what was happening when I went on to terrorize an orphanage, a hospital, and an old folks' home in similar fashion, unwittingly chasing a wide and ever-increasing assortment of terrified people down the street until I finally ducked down an alleyway and made my way home. 

That night, Mom called and asked if I'd had anything to do with "that story on the news", and I asked her why she would simply assume that I did and she just sort of sighed.  Later, some little kids in weird costumes came to my door begging for free candy, so I grabbed my Tyrannosaurus Rex cutout and chased them away.  Pffft--like I buy that stuff just to give it away to a bunch of strangers. 

PORFLE'S PIPPI LONGSTOCKING AND BULLDOZER HALLOWEEN SPECIAL

Oh, how fondly I remember the nostalgic Halloween that just happened to fall right in the middle of my "Pippi Longstocking" phase. I had just finished reading those wonderful books by Astrid Lindgren, and was so obsessed with them that I didn't leave the house for over two months as I created my "Pippi" costume for Halloween and, through weeks of diligent practice and mental discipline, practically became the character. Some of my neighbors eventually grew curious and started trying to peer through my windows to see if I was dead, so I loaded up my pump shotgun and blasted away at them.




BLAM!!! BLAM!!! You should've seen those cock-a-roaches run! The shattered glass of my windows exploded out at them like a million tiny shards of sheer terror as I stood there in my Pippi Longstocking costume that I'd just finished in time for that evening's trick 'r' treat fun, firing off a few more loads of blazing buckshot over their heads. I leaned out of the broken window with my gun raised triumphantly and screamed, "I am Pippi Longstocking! A-hope and a-hey and a-hope sha-naa! BASTAAARDS!!!"



My beautiful costume included a really cool red-orange wig with pigtails that stuck straight out on either side of my head and bounced around when I moved. My tattered dress was cutely adorned with colorful patches, and I wore mismatched stockings which served to disguise my hairy legs. Topping off my ensemble was a pair of pointed boots that were twice as long as my feet, and, of course, a sprinkling of freckles painted on each cheek. I felt so cute! I couldn't wait to finally share myself with a grateful world.



Interrupting my blissful reverie, the phone rang and I snatched it up petulantly. It was Mom, reminding me that Gramps' funeral was that afternoon. "WHAT THE TIN-PLATED COAL-BURNING HELL'S YOUR MAJOR MALFUNCTION!" I screamed, then composed myself and reminded her that it was Halloween and that I would be busy trick 'r' treating. I won't go into the rest of our conversation since it was private and all--mostly just Mom saying the usual stupid stuff like "But you're 35 years old" and me snapping back with clever retorts and whatever--so with a final "I HATE YOU!!! I HATE YOU!!!" I slammed down the phone, grabbed my Halloween candy bag, and skipped merrily out the front door.



Being the middle of the afternoon, it was still broad daylight outside. This was part of my clever plan to beat all the other kids to the candy while also showing off my new costume to its fullest advantage. I basked in the attention of passersby as I skipped along the sidewalk, my pigtails flailing wildly about. Presently I passed a street construction crew who were putting in a new water line or something, and they all stopped what they were doing to stare at me. It's funny, the fine line between naked admiration and total, horrified disgust, but that's what I saw on their faces as they admired my wonderful costume. "What the hell are you supposed to be?" one of them asked.



"I'm yo' worst nightmare, FOOL!" I shot back in my Mr. T voice. Then I caught myself and slipped back into character, skipping in place and singing brightly, "I am Pippi Longstocking, a-hope and a-hey and a-hope sha-naa!" This seemed to amaze them into silence, so I continued down the sidewalk as they stared after me with their mouths agape. Presently I came to the biggest house in the whole neighborhood and thought, "Surely they would have the best candy!" So I marched right up the front steps and banged on the door.



An old lady answered, eyeing me suspiciously. "What do you want?" she said.



"Trick 'r' treat!" I beamed, skipping in place. "A-hope and a-hey and a-hope sha-naa!"



She looked confused. "It's three o'clock in the afternoon! I haven't even gone to the store to buy candy yet!"



"Look, lady," I said, pointing at her with a sudden air of authority, "it's Halloween all day long today, not just at a 'certain time'"--I framed the last two words with finger quotes--"so technically, you'd better have some treats for me or I'll have to make with the tricks." I put my hands on my hips and gave her a cutely determined look so she'd know I meant business.



"Get outta here!" she barked, slamming the door.



"That does it!" I cried, jumping up and down. Looking around, I spotted something that seemed ideal for the trick that I was already forming in my fevered mind as a retaliation against the horrible old lady. The construction workers had gone home, but they'd left their equipment behind, so I hopped into the big, bright yellow bulldozer and cranked it up. "Woo-hoo!" I cried as the engine rumbled and roared. Slamming it into gear, I lurched forward and headed up the old lady's front sidewalk, flattening her flower bed and taking out a birdbath along the way.



She opened the door to see what was going on and recoiled in horror. A split-second later I crashed into her front porch and demolished it in an explosion of wood splinters and wind chimes. The forward momentum carried me right through the front wall of her house and into the living room, which I destroyed with a few wide arcs of the bulldozer. CRUNCH!!! went her TV and her china cabinet, followed by all her other furniture and some of those knick-knack shelves that I was able to deftly shave off the walls. Then the old lady ran out the kitchen door screaming as I burst through the back wall of her house, shrieking "HOPE AND A-HEY AND A-HOPE SHA-NAAAA!!!" at the top of my lungs. In my mind, I was being cutely mischievous and unpredictable, just like the real Pippi!



"TRICK OR TREAT!!!" I screamed, and then began to sing, "I AM PIPPI LONGSTOCKING, WATCH OUT HERE I COME!!!" Steering back onto the main street, I noticed that most of the people who lived in the vicinity had already rushed into their houses and were bringing loads of candy right out to me so that I didn't even have to knock on their doors or threaten to demolish their houses. It was the best Halloween ever! At least, until the police cars started coming after me. I tried to outrun them but the bulldozer didn't go very fast, so it wasn't a very exciting chase. We toodled along at about twenty miles an hour for awhile until I ran out of gas, and then I hopped down out of that wonderful old bulldozer and skipped away real fast with my candy bag overflowing with goodies. The police fired a few shots over my head but I ducked into Old Man Burton's backyard and disappeared through a hedge.



That night, I sat eating my delicious candy and watching the news reports on TV. The videotape footage was kind of grainy and shaky but my awesome costume could be clearly seen as I sat atop the bulldozer, smashing through picket fences and stuff as people ran in terror. I was still unidentified, so the reporters were describing me with odd, non-specific terms like "freak" and "psycho", which disappointed me since I'd hoped they would refer to me as "The World's Greatest Pippi Longstocking Impersonator." But I guess you can't have everything.



Mom called later and asked if that was me on the news. "It's always you," she added, which totally wasn't true because there was a lot of stuff on the news that wasn't me. Like, for example, the Hindenberg disaster. I apologized for the "I HATE YOU!!!" and for not showing up at Gramps' funeral in my new Pippi costume, which I think made her feel better, so I felt better myself as I hung up. It had been a wonderful Halloween. For some reason, strangely-garbed children kept knocking on my door for the rest of the night expecting me to hand over some of my hard-earned candy to them, but a few random blasts from my pump shotgun seemed to scatter them.
 
 
 
(originally posted at Andersonvision.com)