Halloween Humor by Will Stanton

Thirty-six Halloweens have come and gone since I first came to Denver, yet in those many years, I have attended only a few parties and hosted even fewer. Those parties, however, are, for various reasons, rather memorable.

The first large party that I attended was filled with truly creative people who thought of, and made, their own costumes… no rented or purchased costumes there with people saying, “How to you like my costume?” If you remember the old TV ads for Fruit of the Loom underwear, several people showed up as those advertisement characters, a bunch of grapes, etc. One man made an authentic replica of a Roman legionnaire’s armor.

Ever since I was a young child and attended local children’s parades and costume contests, I thoroughly subscribed to that tenant that my mother taught me, “create your own costume!” Yet at times, coming up with a fresh ideas may not be the simplest task.

About 4:00 in the afternoon of the day of that party, I still did not have an idea for myself. Then, I read an article in Time Magazine that provided my idea. The magazine article spoke of the scandal in the Olympics with the Eastern-Block countries apparently posing men as women in several events. I went to a T-shirt shop and had them make a red shirt with a big CCCP (for USSR) on the front and back. Then I picked up a wig and bra from ARC. The rest of the costume was easy, simply using gym sox and shoes and small gym shorts. In those days, I did sixteen hours per week of heavy-duty sports, so I was very buff and had big shoulders and chest. You can imagine what I looked like. To my surprise and pleasure, my costume as a “Soviet woman-athlete” was a big hit. A friend who took a photo promised to give me a copy, but he never did. I wish I had it to show people.

Another party with especially creative attendees occurred a few years ago. I have known for many years a remarkably talented man who has been a successful artist, craftsman, writer, and editor. In his line of business over the years, he has made a point of connecting with many other talented people. For his party, he announced a theme: leather. For a moment, I wondered if he was alluding to the gay interpretation; however, then I concluded that his suggestion was more broad, considering that his friends are of mixed persuasion.

I decided that, in keeping with the dark atmosphere of Halloween, I would go as a Russian KGB general. I had a cheap Russian military hat that I easily spruced up to resemble the required Soviet officer’s hat. I borrowed a huge black-leather coat. The rest was easy: black boots, black trousers and belt, black shirt and tie. The effect on the other guests was dramatic, and I shall not exaggerate in my telling of it.

The home was packed with interesting people, and it was not easy to move about. Throughout the evening, however, whenever I walked throughout the house, people instinctively stepped aside to make room for me. This phenomenon never changed; it continued until I left at 2:00 in the morning.

Even more curious was the fact that three people tried to pick me up all throughout the evening. The second woman was even more persistent than the first, and her husband was right there at the party. Someone had stood up to permit me to sit down on the coach, and this determined lady knelt next me for 45 minutes, chatting me up, and making quite clear that she “would really like to get to know me!” The third interested party was a young man half my age.

My being a very self-effacing person with little belief that I possess irresistible charisma, I was quite surprised and puzzled by all this attention. Then the words of Mark Twain came to mind and possibly explained it: “Clothes make the man!”

Regarding Halloween humor, I always have enjoyed a truly good joke. I recall how fun the popular Irish humorist David Allan was. When I could, I would try to catch him on TV and hear his wry humor. One of my favorites has remained with me to this day. The joke is set in an Irish pub on Halloween night:

Shawn O’Leary, having consumed several pints of Guinness and a few shots of Cutty Sark, comes stumbling out the door into the stormy night.

“Cor!  What a terrible night, with the wind and rain a’blowin’!  It’s a night for witches and banshees

and things that go Bump in the night!  I better take the shortcut home…through the graveyard." 

So, Shawn stumbles off through the grave yard from tree to tree and grave to grave until he comes to a fresh-dug grave; and Plop!, he falls in.  Shawn looks up, shakes his head and starts to try to climb out.  The earth, however, is loose from the rain and crumbles.  He keeps sliding back down into the grave.

So finally, Shawn hunkers down in the corner and says,”Oh well, I might as well make a night of it.”

About this time, Bryan O’Casey stumbles out of the pub and says, “Cor!  What a terrible night.  It’s a night for witches and banshees and things that go Bump in the night.  I better take the shortcut home…through the grave yard."

So Bryan heads off into the graveyard and stumbles into the very same grave.  Looking up, Bryan starts to climb out, but he keeps sliding back down into the grave.

All this while, Shawn O’Leary is watching him.  Finally Shawn speaks up and says, “You might as well give up trying to get out of this grave tonight.  You’ll never make it.” 

He did! 

© 18 June 2012

About the Author

I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life stories.  I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones.  Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group.  I do put some thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.