Fun Night

 
 It should come as little shock to you that I'm the type of cat that really relishes Halloween. Whether it's my morbid fascination with the bizarre or my terrible fashion sense or crass humour, you all can sense that I'd have an affinity for the night of the dead. But my love for this fiendish evening stretches back to childhood, and for reasons that might seem kind of odd. It has very little to do with Dracula or costumes or candy, but something far deeper.

  You see, Halloween was the great equalizer.

  All the poor kids knew by second grade that Santa Claus was really someone's parents, usually because the affluent people who were bastards to your parents' beastly children scored the new Schwinn and you got socks. (Or your dad passed out drunk on the floor beside the tree that was still in the box.) All of the other events seemed either patently unfair or absolutely absurd, but not Halloween.

You could make your own costume and it could be rad. It was the singular party that all the kids who had to stand in the hall during (state-sanctioned) Christian prayer were still invited to. Halloween was the equal-opportunity destroyer of teeth- in fact, the poor kids usually garnered more loot out of determination combined with a little pity from the old grandmotherly types who could tell whose outfits were home-made or not. Other times, they could tell by the fact that you smelled like rotten eggs that you weren't so popular and release the sugary jackpot.    In my case, the fact that I looked far younger than I was always endeared me to the human candy dispensers that allowed me to exact a chocolate-covered revenge on all those enormous, well-fed farm boys who pitched me in the dumpsters on a daily basis. Everyone knows that 4'6" is far cuter than 6'2'.

Halloween was the party that all the kids were invited to- rich or poor; adorable or awkward; Anglican, Muslim, or that strange Animist faith that your best friend was born into. You could point out to your mates that pastel-coloured rabbits don't lay eggs and that reindeer don't fly and still be permitted to be a little goblin.

I love Halloween and you fuckwits on CNN debating whether or not it should be held on a Sunday will not spoil my fun. I look forward to a festive evening of spoiling kids and laughing at all the grown-ups who try to weasel treats out of me. A night where my housemate's natural resemblance to the Cryptkeeper will be put to good use. I'll revel in the memories of the one day of the year where every kid has the equal opportunity to scare the crap out of me and where the world feels safer when everyone is dressed to kill.

Kids of all ages, be safe tonight and don't drink and drive unless you want to meet the real Grim Reaper.