I've been thinking. Still not sure. It is my favorite holiday, but it's just not as fun for me as it used to be. I'd like to dress up and go to a costume party. I'd love to actually go trick or treating. I'd love to get with people and guess who is who, but I don't know enough cool people to do such things with. I'd love to go to a fun haunted house with a group of friends, bob for apples, scare kids, make out with a cute gal in a car at an marathon of horror films at a drive-in theatre and eat candy corn. Okay, maybe not candy corn.
Maybe I'm too old for it all.
Maybe I should start thinking about growing up, saving money, getting a house, settling down, getting a soft recliner, getting a floor lamp, getting an end table, getting a nice big flat screen tv and sitting in front of it and watching all the old classic horror films I loved as a youth. I could pop some popcorn. I could sit in the dark haloed by the glow of my floor lamp and read H.P. Lovecraft. When my eyes grew tired I could listen to old radio dramas like "X-Minus-One" and "Lights Out" and draw the Snuggie around me tighter while fingering the trigger on the pistol on my lap.
The real horror is growing old alone.
I wouldn't want to trouble anyone. I wouldn't want to be a burden. I wouldn't want to leave a mess behind when someone found my decomposing body. I would rather reanimate as a zombie and keep my corpse moving.
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