one halloween, I must have been like ten or something and I can't remember who I was, I think I was Return of the Jedi Luke, you know the glove and all...and at the time I was hanging out with this kid who lived up the block from me in this shabby apartment building. I can't really remember his name or really anything at all about him except that he looked sickly thin and talked with some sort of weird country accent. (not like he was from another counrty, I am just trying to nicely state that he sounded like a hillbilly. I tried to dance around it but thats what I meant so .....sorry) After years of reflection I realize now that he was probably really poor but you know when you're a kid you don't really care about that kind of stuff. I remember that it was cold outside, unusually so for october and his costume consisted of no shirt, khaki shorts (does anyone remember those shorts that came with the little key ring attached to one of the belt loops?....well, those) and these construction boots. I remeber being absolutely mystified at what this "costume" was supposed to be...what could it possibly represent? I stared in wonder as he tramped up and down our block, clutching his brown paper bag with his pale bony knuckles begging for candy, and I remember thinking over and over again "Poor guy, his mother doesn't love him".
Well, he comes over and says hello and we, you know, start comparing our loot I guess, and this rag tag gang of kids from the neighborhood walk up and start chatting us up. Naive as I was I didn't think it strange that these,... well strangers, ( the biggest of whom was fat and had a "break dancing" costume consting of like five bandanas and ratty cut off yellow sweatpants over jeans and a lint trap sweat band on his head.)
were talking to us......in what seemed like a blink of an eye, they grabbed my poor hillybilly waif's bag of candy and ran off down the street laughing........we sat on my front steps slackjawed, and he gave me this look like he had just had the winning lottery ticket ripped from his skeletal fingers and all at once he was shown his grim future of jail and dog food........"they just ran off with my bag of treats!" he whined in that undefinable country twang thatmade him sound like he talked through a juice harp, and with that he ran off down the street and out of my life forever.....I never saw him again...except once when my mother and I were driving down the alley to our home, and he stood aside to let our car pass. Looking into the window his eyes told me what I feared...he never got the candy back....................happy halloween everyone....mike lowry