Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Halloween

Despite my reservations about celebrating Halloween in this country (for reasons I am sure my astute readers can imagine), I used to contribute towards making the occasion fun for the neighbourhood's children.

"I believe the children are our future, teach them well, and let them lead the way," so sang Whitney Houston, and it is true. Thus, it is never too early to teach the tiny ones that one is judged by what one wears, and so those with pleasing ensembles received my commendation and a handful of mini chocolate bars, and those who demonstrated little creativity or effort, got a stern look and a budget lollipop. This is the way of the world, and they should have thanked me for the lesson learned.

Rubbish Outfits (lollipops):
Princesses (snore)
Cheap, polyester things (Pooh. Pulling something off a shelf at the Warehouse does not count as effort. Imagine if I did that!)

Good Oufits (chocolate bars):
Unusual themes (one little fellow arrived at my door one year as a perfect replica of a WWI soldier. How splendid! I gave him four chocolate bars).
Home-made ones (a slightly lopsided Spongebob Squarepants made from papier mache – they got four also).

However – there has been a disturbing trend in latter years, which has meant I no longer participate in this event. Not all the children who crossed the Chez Smith threshold in search of treats were locals, and these interlopers are increasing in number every year.

How do I know they are not local? Firstly, they are sans costume – unless their attire is actually some very clever post-modernist statement on consumerist society, local children do not trick or treat in scruffy jeans and soiled tee-shirts. Secondly, the parents of local children do not wait in a rusting van in the street, nor do local children kick one's letter-box in lieu of thanks for their budget lollipop. And thirdly, they are entirely the wrong colour, which is an instant giveaway.

There should be some sort of rule about sticking to one's neighbourhood for such occasions. Or at the very least, they should know that you don't get the good things in life by kicking letter-boxes and wearing dirty clothes.

15 comments:

llew said...

I agree! We get very few kids visiting, something I attribute to the Beware: Dog on Premises sign that Mrs Llew tries to hide with a picture of a pumpkin (no idea how that fell off, honest!).

But it happens we look over The Glen from the back yard & it looks to me every year, like a stram of cars from Karori & the other barbarian suburbs drop hordes of kids off at the top of the Glen & we watch them march down one side, zig zag through the streets perpendicular & then march back to the top.

Hundreds, if not thousands of kids from other suburbs....

Martha Craig said...

I think we're in the "other suburbs". The kids that dare to venture out in our 'hood seem to favour costumes made of black rubbish bags with a hole for the head.

llew said...

Drop them off at the top of the Glen this year martha. That never fails to amuse me. And it's amusement that lasts too, as friends moan to me about how many kids visited on Halloween.

Bwaha!

Oswald Bastable said...

So far none have dared venture past the Dread Portal seeking Pogey Bait!

They are learning- see- natural selection does work...

D-Man said...

I hate the homeys who knock on your door and you go "What are you meant to be?" and they go "We're homeys. Give us some lolleys".


But I think it's great that they're comfortable with their sexuality.

Robyn said...

Walking home today, I passed one of those freaky churches that was holding a "Halloween alternative". Busloads of little girls wearing nylon fairy and princess costumes were being shipped off somewhere. It felt far more sinister than any all hallows eve ever did.

llew said...

Bought a big bag of fruit bursts & jet planes - just in case.

Have an untouched, huge bag of fruit bursts & jetplanes left this morning.

unPC lesbian said...

How odd....only after reading this have I remembered that it was the dreaded night last night...prolly due to the 14 hour work day, flooding conference rooms and staff dismissals it may have slipped my mind. However I was home and indoors by 8.30 pm and NO ONE knocked on the door...I could say it was the stairs leading up to the house but there really aren't many....or maybe word has got round that you only get healthy shit, like fruit if you knock on the door....then again it could have been the flashing "Lesbian" sign that was too scary!!

llew said...

Not that it matters, but what exactly do you mean by Flashing "Lesbian"?

Seamonkey Madness said...

All my neighbourhood's halloween turned out to be was two 16-ish year old girls, lamely attempting to dress up as fairies, so they can cash in on the whole lolly scam.

I was mowing the front lawns (avec earmuffs) at the time, and even though they were only (obviously) saying/shouting 'trick or treat', I mimed back to them (along with hands signals) 'sorry can't hear you. Heh...

But the most bizarre thing about it all, was that they had - what I assume was - a pimp* accompanying them. He wasn't actually dressed up as a pimp (which I thought to be rather rude on Halloween), but it was more he was their minder. And if any honkey don't give hiz bitches the lollies they deserve, then he'll take it out of their hide. Or something...

* He was at least 10 years older than the girls, had sharkies on and was dressed in matching tracksuit top & bottoms, with his hood on.

Mrs Smith said...

UnPC - I know Halloween is meant to be a bit scary, but flashing at children seems to be taking things a bit far. Shame on you.

Mrs Smith said...

What the hell are 'sharkies'? I googled it, but all I got was a website with fruit snacks.

Seamonkey Madness said...

Her Smithiness - sharkies are sunglasses usually worn by:
(a) Westie bogans; or
(b) gang member ruffians

Mrs Smith said...

Oh - sunglasses. Thanks. Thought having fruit snacks pinned to his body seemed a bit unlikely.

Anonymous said...

hahaha , we got them last year. Clearly they have raised their expectations if they are knocking on your door. They got the hump when I asked them where they lived.

A.