Two trapped, one fleeing, one fighting and a "WTF"

Halloween is considered a national holiday by my thirty-nine year old son, Ross.

In celebration of this holiday, Ross and family will decorate the home, yard and garage with scary stuff. He and his garage band also play some incredible tunes to entertain friends and family alike. They really are good and fun to watch (and listen).

As this national event approaches, Ross's lovely wife clearly states:

- only so many dollars will be used for new, terrifying displays

- decorating may not commence before October 1st, allowing just barely enough time to get ready for October 31st.

Despite these limitations Ross is as diligent now as he was as a kid, and his Garage of Terror has become a work of art as well as a central feature for the whole neighborhood, including a stop on the local hayride.

Of course, the front yard is duly decorated with the giant blow up spider, complementing the spider webs and headstones.

However, the piece de resistance is his two car garage. For Halloween, the garage is fully decorated including an entrance and, if the kids make it out, an exit. The path to follow is well defined by black sheets hanging from the ceiling, forming a Corridor to Hell. The garage is all blacked out except for the seizure inducing strobe lights. There are severed limbs, spiders, a casket, and ghouls; some in mannequin form, some family members and some local neighborhood kids who apparently hold a grudge against other kids, or are just bullies.

Included in the family of volunteers are Ross’s big brother, Jimbo, my lovely wife with a dark green witch's face and a large mole encased nose, family children, in-laws and, this year, my brother and his wife who currently live in an RV, unless you’re from the IRS in which case they live in South Dakota.

The Garage from Hell is designed with hiding places that are built in at strategic locations, allowing us to jump out and scare the snot out of children of all ages. As a group, we judge the success of our efforts by the decibel level of the screams, the number of kids (of all ages) that start to cry, the number of mothers who pull their children from the arms of the naive fathers as they start to enter the Garage with a Reputation, and finally, the amount of candy that is strewn about the floor of the Hades Garage, left behind by terrified children as they make a break for the exit (only to be ambushed by my brother one last time within sight of survival).

We all have individual stories of success. Mine include:

The two adults whom I trapped against the wall of the garage. An adult man and an adult woman. The woman was too terrified to scream, while her male protector could just stand there and yell “help! Help!! HELP!!!” It got to be so boring to me that I finally moved WAY over so they could make a break for it (only to be ambushed within sight of the exit by my brother).

The teenage girl (our favorite category of victim) who could just scream as she back up towards the recently vacated garage wall. As she screamed and took a step back, I screamed and took a step forward. It went on like that for quite some time. Scream … feminine step back. Counter-scream …. Ghoulish step forward. Scream …. Feminine step back. Counter-scream … ghoulish step forward. And on and on and on. I finally let her go. The kid with her complimented me on my style and gave me a high five.

Alas, one young teenage lady, given the option of “flight or fight” chose the wrong one and smashed my nose with her bag of candy. Felt like rock candy. She got away, and after seeing what happened to me I think my brother pulled back under his rock and let her escape.

Then there was the fearless teenage boy who struted through my kid’s garage, throwing his chest out in order to display his masculinity. My oldest son attempted to scare this kid but the kid just kept walking. As he turned the corner I leapt out with my ghoulish mask. I give him credit, he didn’t officially flinch, but I did detect a crack in the veneer of manhood as he froze in his tracks, eyes growing wide and uttering “What the fuck?!?!”. Regaining his composure, he then strolled past. Heh … heh … heh…. I’ll count that as a win.

Punk.