By Coulter Fussell
Halloween in Water Valley this year was a blast! A blast of cold wind, that is. I believe we experienced the rare Nor’Missis-sippi Nor’ester and I think it was very brave of all the parents and kids to still get out in it and do the trick-or-treat routine.
The fairies had it worse than anyone as chiffon is not apt to keep anyone warm, but in typical fairy fashion they still kept a positive attitude and looked lovely.
After a few hours of the trick-or-treat onslaught I began to realize that this town is made up of mostly Ninja Turtles. I estimate it’s about a 70/30 ratio of Ninja Turtles to everything else in the world.
Regular readers of this column may know that I am a fan of all turtles, ninja or otherwise, so I was pleased with this costuming trend.
By far my favorite outfits of the entire night were the Tornado Kid and the Spaghetti Kid who were dressed, respectively, as a tornado and spaghetti.
The costumes were entirely homemade (the best kind) and very well executed, complete with a wind-blown paper cow taped to a shoulder and a meatball on the head.
I should also mention the ingenuity of the very first group of kids who trick-or-treated at my house, as they came back a couple hours later in different costumes. The littlest sister said,
“I think we came to this house already…” as the older sister immediately elbowed her saying,”Shhh, no we didn’t…shut up…Trick-or treat, Ma’am!” Their candy haul that night must have been spectacular.
My youngest trick-or-treaters were both eight weeks old. I hope they enjoyed their Snickers and Jawbreakers. And I hope they did not stop by my friends’ house (names withheld to protect the guilty) where they were giving out Cry Babies and Atomic Fireballs.
Of my 10 years doing Halloween on Dupuy Street I have never heard so many “trick-or-treats” or “thank you’s.” Water Valley kids were a very cheery and mannerly bunch this year.
As for us adults… After freezing on the front porch for a few miserable hours I went to John and Becky Tatum’s annual Halloween party. When I arrived a few people joked that “the Press is here.”
For the first time it occurred to me that maybe people won’t talk freely to me for fear that I might write about it in my column. I had a moment of panic as that is not what I want at all!
But I was soon set as ease when it became very clear I was having the exact opposite problem. A group of women were instead suggesting stories about their husbands’ bad behavior that they wanted me to put in my column. Husband-shaming by column-mention. I liked the idea.
But I ultimately decided that what is said about you at 11 p.m. on the Tatum’s front porch by your wife who is wearing a viking costume and drinking a homemade concoction called “Witch’s Brew XXX” should stay on the Tatum’s front porch.
You’re welcome, Casey Clevenger.