I was always a big fan of Halloween…or, more specifically…candy bars. Being a baseball man my entire life, I suppose it was quite normal to consider the ‘Baby Ruth’ bar a superior piece of chocolate as a youth. And I’m so old that I remember the bars actually being about the size of a baseball bat, too. I hiked quickly and covered as much ground as was humanly possible on the streets of Bristol, Ct. in those days, visiting as many houses as I could in the allotted time. My older brother would try to interest me in vandalism, something at which he excelled, but as much as I’d like to say I was a law-abiding citizen, it was all about the candy.
I knew I was getting near the end of my trick-or-treat career when I hit the seventh grade, but felt that one more time was appropriate. I was joined by a friend who relished his candy almost as much as I did mine. He arrived at my house and we were putting together our outfits from stuff we found in the garage when he noticed my hatchet.
“We should take that along in case anyone tries to steal our candy,” he suggested.
I’d been trick-or-treating for a long time and never had anyone…other than Jim…try to steal my candy. When he’d tried, I’d simply told my parents. It had never occurred to me that it might have been better to hack him to death with a sharpened, hand-held weapon. “Sure…sounds like a good idea,” I said.
I knew my parents would not go along with the hatchet idea, nor did I think carrying it out in the open made sense. I don’t know if there were laws about ‘carrying concealed weapons’ at that time, though it wouldn’t have mattered much. I wrapped it in a brown shopping bag and stuck it under my arm as we headed down the driveway. I was packing against candy thieves…and that was that.
There were no candy thieves that evening and as we finished up our final house and were headed for home, I remember being disappointed. I’d wanted to have the chance to wave my weapon…have the moonlight reflect off the sharpened, glistening blade and yell something like “go ahead…try to take my Baby Ruths.” We were almost home when my ‘spider senses’ began to tingle. I could see three or four large silhouettes approaching and talking. They were obviously boys and older and bigger than us, though I was pretty sure none of them were packing. When they reached us, they did what bullies throughout the world do…sized us up and decided all the advantages were on their side and we would be easy pickings.
“Hey girls…whatcha got in those bags I’d like?” the leader asked, pushing his hand into my friend’s chest. We both went silent. I assessed the situation quickly and could see it was bad. I’d been hiking the neighborhood for two hours and now I had four goons in my face with the objective of stealing my candy. It was truly my worst nightmare. And then I remembered what I’d been lugging around the neighborhood for the whole evening. So did my friend.
“He’s got a hatchet under his arm and we’ll kill you guys if you try to take our candy,” he said.
Well…there it was. I wasn’t so sure I was ready to kill them all, but now what was I going to do. If I didn’t kill them with it, I reasoned, they’d take it from me and kill me…then eat my candy! “Go ahead…show them, John,” he said.
The bully took a step back as I reached under my arm and pulled the hatchet from the bag. I dropped my candy, crouched and began to swing it back and forth. The moonlight actually did seem to glint off the finely polished, sharpened edge. Suddenly, I wasn’t so weak and helpless anymore. Bullies…cowards by definition…were uncertain about me and what I’d do and no one wanted to be the first one to find out if I was some kind of psycho kid killer or just a seventh grader ready to pee his pants. I didn’t know myself for sure, but I did know that I had a hatchet in my hand and a bag of candy at my feet. I was going to have a cleaved limb at my feet as well, should any of the bullies reach for the bag, of that much I was certain.
Thankfully, the bullies decided there were probably some easier marks up the way. My sisters were out, after all, and I was sure THEY didn’t have a hatchet…though they probably had my 275-pound father in tow. We returned to my home without further incident, but with a story we’d be able to share for the rest of our Halloween lives. I may have embellished the telling over the next several years to include ‘never found again’ kids from the hood.
I managed a 30-minute run and some leaf raking before the trick-or-treaters arrived. Highland Heights had moved candy gathering because of Hurricane Sandy. I had over 60 kids show up at the door and almost all of them remembered to say thanks and most trampled through the garden on their way to the next house. I peered into their bags as I delivered my treat and never saw a ‘Baby Ruth’ bar…or a hatchet, for that matter.
Run Duration: 30 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 140 bpm.
Calories burned during workout: 500.
No comments:
Post a Comment