Thursday, November 14, 2013

There's A Dead Body in the Trunk-or-Treat (Conclusion)

If you missed the beginning of our Halloween adventure, feel free to catch up here.


“Ma’am, what have I gotta do to get some cupcakes? I’m gonna be honest with you. We were thinking about visiting here Sunday, but if this is how hospitable y’all are, we’ll just watch that fartin’ preacher on the Internet and save the gas money. I’m not askin’ you to walk on water…I’m just asking to buy something sweet. “  I flashed her my best you-think-I’m-nice-but-I’m-secretly-hoping-you-get-run-over-by-a-beer-truck smile.

So this double-friendly woman purses up her mouth like she’s been gnawin’ on a lemon, and stands up so straight I’d swear she sat on her broomstick the wrong way.

 “Ma’am, we would love to see you Sunday morning. But if you want a cake, you’ll have to buy a ticket, walk around the numbers until the music stops, and then pray that I pick your number. If I do call your number, you can pick a cake. If not, then--well, He must not recognize your voice.”

So, let me get this straight. You’re tellin’ me that I have to pay for a chance to win something with no guarantee of a return? Hmmm….last time I did that, the prize was $430 million, not Agnes’s Seven-Up Pound Cake. And then you're gonna call me a heathen on top of it?  Heck to the no!

At this point, I’m willing to go home and bake each kid their own doggone cake just to get out of here.

“Guys, how ‘bout we’ll go to Wal-Mart after we leave here and you can pick out a doughnut or something?” These poor kids have been put through the ringer, and we ain’t even made it to the trunks yet. After mumbling in agreement, we mope around back to the ring of trunkdom.

“Y’all go ahead; I’m gonna stay over here out of the way.” (I am so over this place by now.)

I’m watching my little cross-eyed ninja, Willie Robertson, and Cinderella slowly make their way around the ring of taillights when I see an elderly gentleman come around the side of his car. 

I know we’re at a church, but something’s just not right. This Old-Spice wearin’ grandpa is kneeling down in front of the kids, clearly rehearsed in his lines. He may be handing out tracts, but his smile bears an eerie resemblance to Fire Marshall Bill from ‘In Living Color.’


Not knowing what’s going on, I ran—okay, it was more like 'bouncily trotted like an old mule through sorghum'—over to my frantic kids, but they blew right past me. By the time I caught up to them, they’d pried open the car doors, put on their seat belts, and started reciting the Lord’s prayer. 

“Bubby, what happened? Did that guy scare y’all?”

“Momma, can we just go home? I don’t want anymore candy.”

“Yeah, Mom, I don’t really need a doughnut this close to bedtime.”


What have these people done to my children?

As their mother and protector, I do what I think is best.  I channel my inner Bill Elliott, and get us home as fast as I can…with grounds for 17 years of therapy and religious exploration in tow.

 I didn't know there was such a thing as sudden onset Post-traumatic Stress Syndrome, but from the time we leave the church parking lot till we got home, Rae-Rae’s condition has deteriorated greatly. He’s gone from this sweet, cross-eyed ninja to a frantic little boy, licking his seat belt and humming the Oscar Mayer wiener song.

As we walk in the house, I pull Bubby to the side.

“Honey, what in the world happened back there?” I see the tears well up in my son’s eyes as he delves into his recent trauma.

“Momma, that guy was really weird. We walked up and said ‘Trick-Or-Treat’ like you told us to, and he said we ought to be ashamed. He asked Reagan if he wanted to grab some junk in his trunk, and then he said Cinderella was a gold diggin' hussy.”  

I see the first tear slip down his cheek. Sweet baby Jesus, this is the safe and nurturing holiday alternative?! 

Rae-Rae chimed in next. 

“Then he told Emma that there was a body in his trunk, but if she'd come back on Sunday, it’d be gone!”

For the first time in their lives, my children voluntarily went to bed.  Apparently being scarred for life is exhausting. They brushed their teeth and waited to be tucked in. Baby girl was asleep by the time her crown hit the pillow, and Bubby drifted off just as quickly. But poor Reagan just laid on his bed, covers pulled up to his nose, shaking like a leaf.

“Momma,” he finally whispered, “I know Jesus turned back alive on the third day, but they didn’t really bury him in a Buick, did they?!”


  1. I never got the cake walk thing. Its just gambling for food.

    1. Lol...that's kind of what I was getting at...the whole pick-and-choose-your-verses thing gets under my skin. I'm hoping this trunk-or-treat was the exception, but either way, we'll just visit our neighbors and call it a day. Thanks for stopping by!

  2. WOW! I'd like to think you made this up! I have no idea where you live but wished you lived close to my church. First off we don't charge, Trunk or Treat is suppose to be a safe alternative, which is at our church. We have had cake walks at our church and they were free. We also made sure we had enough were every kid could walk away with something. I don't think you will ever convince your children to go back to another Trunk or Treat event, but know that this is not the norm!

    1. Thanks for stopping by, Stephanie! Parts of this story are made up, but some (troubling) parts are unfortunately real. I actually love the idea of Trunk-or-Treat, but I'm old school and still love trick-or-treating around the neighborhood. Have a great weekend!

  3. Your poor kiddos! Hope they are over the shock and you are over the drain over the night.

    1. Thanks, Kate! I'm definitely grateful that we don't have to go up to strangers for the next few holidays! Have a great weekend. =)

  4. Don't even get me started on the whole question of Halloween! No. Seriously. Do not. I will just say that I don't get the whole trunk--or-treat thing, and I'm not a all. I don't understand how it could possibly be safer to take your children or grandchildren to, say, the local YMCA (which I've done) and trail them around so they can take candy from the trunks of the bunch of strangers' cars than to trail them around your own neighborhood so they can take candy from a bunch of strangers that you could actually find again if you needed to. It's not like you're going to just turn them loose on a pile of candy without checking it out first, right? So either way ...

    And the cake walk? Sigh. I can't let my own bitterness get in the way here, but I will just say that you can be scarred for life, even as an adult.