Humor by John Christmann
Night Of The Living Halloween Costume
Thank goodness for Target, Wal-Mart, Toys-R-Us, and all of the other thoughtful retail giants that supply me each year with ready-to-wear Halloween costumes for my children. Instead of reaching deep within to tap my latent talents as a costume designer, I can easily pick up the latest Disney Princess gown, Harry Potter send up, or rubber mask of Rush Limbaugh. My children are happy and the only Grim Reaper I encounter is the underpaid clerk at the check out counter.
But when I was growing up there was a dearth of ready-made Halloween costumes—you certainly couldn’t just pick one up at Walgreen’s while buying toilet paper to grace the trees on Halloween night. My parents and I had to actually make costumes. Oh, the horror!
This was not as gruesome as it sounds. After all, in those days there were no Mutant Ninja Turtles or Sponge Bob characters to emulate; and rhinestone-encrusted Elvis outfits could not easily be duplicated at home, even with closets full of Leisure Suits. If I wanted to trick-or-treat as a popular cultural icon I pretty much had to dress like Yogi Bear or the Cat in the Hat.
Since I wasn’t too keen on going door-to-door in the October chill wearing nothing but a tie and a hat, I usually resorted to assuming the role of that Halloween staple, a pirate. With a little help from my mom’s makeup kit, a bandana around my head, and some ill fitting clothing from the far reaches of my dad’s closet, I was ready to plunder for booty alongside a cadre of witches, sheet-clad ghosts, mummies bound in dish rags, and other assorted home-style miscreants.
This got me thinking. What kind of costumes could I come up with for my kids using articles around the house that would scare the heck out of the neighbors? Outfits that could induce bone-chilling terror, like a weeklong visit from the in-laws or registered mail from the IRS?
As it turns out, I do indeed have some talent as a costume designer. So, for those of you who are creatively impaired or have no desire to find the theater person lurking inside you, I offer five truly hideous Halloween costumes that you too can make yourself.
One. This Halloween costume is both timeless and creepy. Dig out that steel wool you have been saving since your last abandoned painting project and glue it over a shower cap. Now spray paint the headpiece a ghastly orange, like the last cheap hotel room you stayed in. Put your son in that sport coat and tie that he has only worn once and send him off to the Halloween boardroom as Donald Trump. “Apprentice trick or treat—you’re fired!" Shriek! Please cancel me now!
Two. Here is an outfit guaranteed to unnerve! Tape newspapers, magazines, and any small-print reading material onto a black overcoat and then have face painting fun with deathly smears of white paint and charcoal. Instruct your child to hold out a pair of reading glasses and moan: “I am your new credit card terms. Read me carefully.” It's the Grim Reader! Aggghhhhhhh!
Three. This Halloween get up is deceptively devious, and best of all, no costumes are required! Invite all of your children’s friends over dressed as they are. Send them out trick-or-treating en masse with a boom box. When the front door opens they howl in unison, “We are the Teenage Werewolf cast of High School Musical 13 and we are here to rehearse!” Please, make it stop!
Four. Want to send a chill? Find a cardboard box, paint it black, and cut a large rectangular window across the front. Under the window paint four rows of tiny white squares. Now place the box over your little one's head so she is peering out the opening. Giver her some fangs and a ringtone and listen to her ghoulish message: “Gooot evening. I am Count BlackBerry. I vant to suck your attention.” No more! Let me rest in peace!
Five. And for a truly hideous and unnerving costume, try this. Color the ends of Q-tips with brightly colored markers. String them together in a long chain and neatly attach them to silhouette your kids. With some winter scarves and a never-ending chorus of Jingle Bells your little darlings will be the dread of the neighborhood. “Trick or treat! It’s the start of the holiday season!” Ho Ho Nooooooooo!
This year, my son took a roll of shiny tin foil and covered a giant cardboard box, which, with a hole for his head, he wore over his body. “Oh wow, nice robot!” I commended him.
“No Dad,” he said smiling, “look closer!”
“All I can see is my reflection,” I responded, a bit puzzled.
“Trick or treat, Dad! Pretty scary, huh?”
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