This morning Mrs. Chef asked the boys what costumes they wanted for Halloween, and the oldest said, “I want to be a
skeleton samurai monkey.”
And then the youngest piped up with, “Mama, I want to be a human sacrifice.”
Skeleton samurai monkey…human sacrifice…what the -?
When did that all change? When I was a kid, we dressed up as cowboys, American Indians, astronauts, zombies, and
stuff like that. We’d decide on our costumes a few days ahead of Oct. 31 and started hauling out the paper sacks, old
shirts, and red paint.
With a little finesse, we could cannibalize the cardboard box that contained Mom’s new washing machine and quickly
create swords, spears, ray-guns, and all sorts of implements of destruction.
But that’s all changed. I mean, some of these costumes look freaking real.
Last year, some ghastly vampire with blood streaming down a skeletal face ran screaming up the street swinging what
looked like an honest-to-God double-bladed light saber. I swear he trimmed Ms. Dube’s hedges as he ran past.
Remember when all it took was a towel tied around your neck and a paper “S” taped to your T-shirt? But, no, in today’s
modern hip world of youthful expression, you can’t just dress up as a superhero. No sirree, a real kid these days will have
to be Dark Spiderman, with cheap plastic devices on his wrists that spew real webs made of silly string all over the
unfortunate parent who unsuspectingly purchased the costume for his little candy snatcher.
My friend Travis is no help when it comes to Halloween. He’ll be hanging out with the kids while we dress them up in
whatever their demented imaginations may have created, last year it was Mondo Zombie Deathman and his brother was
the Menacing Mime of Altair VII.
Unfortunately, Trav gets into trick-or-treating more than the kids do. It’s like he’s planning a military assault. “Alright,
boys,” he’ll begin. “Have you got your flashlights?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You don’t say ’uh-huh’, soldier! You say ‘Sir-yes-sir!’ You understand me?”
“Sir-yes-sir!” And the boys will stand at attention and look at each other out of the corners of their eyes and grin.
“Good. Now have you got your flashlights?”
“Sir-yes-sir!”
“Reinforced candy bags? Extra backpacks to store your candy? Wagon to carry the extra backpacks? Do you have a
back-up wagon? Map of the neighbor-hood? Have you memorized the route for the greatest coverage in the least time?’
“Sir-yes-sir!”
“Soldier, where is your glowstick!”
“I forgot it.”
“Forgot your glowstick? Boy, do you want to end up like some ignorant zombie smeared across the road? Don’t you
realize that there are going to be several poor schmucks who are more interested in unwrapping their daughter’s Kit Kat
candy bar than they are in watching out for cute little children traipsing around in the moonlight?
”Do you!?”
“No sir!”
“Good, now here is an extra glowstick, and don’t lose it.
“Okay. Look here, boys. It’s going to be rough out there. When we hit the streets, I don’t want to see any dawdlers; I
don’t want to hear any namby-pamby whining about how your legs are tired or how your costume is starting to chaff your
buttocks. I expect you to suck it up and soldier on, you understand me? Once we go out that door, the sole goal is to get
as much candy as is absolutely possible. With any luck we will have enough chocolate, caramel, nougat, powdered sugar,
and chewy filling to keep us in a diabetic coma until Christmas.
“But, we cannot do it unless we work together.
“So what’s our motto?”
“Rot our teeth!”
“What’s our code?”
“Leave the peppermints to the babies!”
“All right, men, when it starts to get rough out there and we come across that stretch of houses where it’s nothing but Dum-
Dum lollipops and Flintstones vitamins for miles, and it seems like the teenagers have stopped even pretending to be in
costume, what are you going to do?”
“Knock on the next door, sir!”
“That’s right, men. That’s right.
“Now, I want you to hit those streets running. Ignore the sidewalks, leap over the hedges, go ahead and cut across
Widow Grundy’s back yard. Remember, on Halloween, a kid in a costume is an unstoppable force. When you come
home with that humongous haul of delicious treats, the only thing that can keep you from eating candy until you puke is if
your parents get to all the good stuff before you do.”
1 pound of low-fat turkey kielbasa
4 cans of SpaghettiOs
1 tablespoon of olive oil
1 tablespoon of butter
WHAT YOU DO:
1. Slice the kielbasa into 1/4-inch disks.
2. Heat a skillet on medium high. Melt the butter in the skillet, then add the olive oil.
3. Fry the kielbasa until it begins to brown, about 5 minutes.
4. Add the SpaghettiOs and heat it through.
5. Serve it up in bowls and release the dogs of war…er…let the kids go trick or treating.
Copyright 2007
Macho Chef is a registered trademark
skeleton samurai monkey.”
And then the youngest piped up with, “Mama, I want to be a human sacrifice.”
Skeleton samurai monkey…human sacrifice…what the -?
When did that all change? When I was a kid, we dressed up as cowboys, American Indians, astronauts, zombies, and
stuff like that. We’d decide on our costumes a few days ahead of Oct. 31 and started hauling out the paper sacks, old
shirts, and red paint.
With a little finesse, we could cannibalize the cardboard box that contained Mom’s new washing machine and quickly
create swords, spears, ray-guns, and all sorts of implements of destruction.
But that’s all changed. I mean, some of these costumes look freaking real.
Last year, some ghastly vampire with blood streaming down a skeletal face ran screaming up the street swinging what
looked like an honest-to-God double-bladed light saber. I swear he trimmed Ms. Dube’s hedges as he ran past.
Remember when all it took was a towel tied around your neck and a paper “S” taped to your T-shirt? But, no, in today’s
modern hip world of youthful expression, you can’t just dress up as a superhero. No sirree, a real kid these days will have
to be Dark Spiderman, with cheap plastic devices on his wrists that spew real webs made of silly string all over the
unfortunate parent who unsuspectingly purchased the costume for his little candy snatcher.
My friend Travis is no help when it comes to Halloween. He’ll be hanging out with the kids while we dress them up in
whatever their demented imaginations may have created, last year it was Mondo Zombie Deathman and his brother was
the Menacing Mime of Altair VII.
Unfortunately, Trav gets into trick-or-treating more than the kids do. It’s like he’s planning a military assault. “Alright,
boys,” he’ll begin. “Have you got your flashlights?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You don’t say ’uh-huh’, soldier! You say ‘Sir-yes-sir!’ You understand me?”
“Sir-yes-sir!” And the boys will stand at attention and look at each other out of the corners of their eyes and grin.
“Good. Now have you got your flashlights?”
“Sir-yes-sir!”
“Reinforced candy bags? Extra backpacks to store your candy? Wagon to carry the extra backpacks? Do you have a
back-up wagon? Map of the neighbor-hood? Have you memorized the route for the greatest coverage in the least time?’
“Sir-yes-sir!”
“Soldier, where is your glowstick!”
“I forgot it.”
“Forgot your glowstick? Boy, do you want to end up like some ignorant zombie smeared across the road? Don’t you
realize that there are going to be several poor schmucks who are more interested in unwrapping their daughter’s Kit Kat
candy bar than they are in watching out for cute little children traipsing around in the moonlight?
”Do you!?”
“No sir!”
“Good, now here is an extra glowstick, and don’t lose it.
“Okay. Look here, boys. It’s going to be rough out there. When we hit the streets, I don’t want to see any dawdlers; I
don’t want to hear any namby-pamby whining about how your legs are tired or how your costume is starting to chaff your
buttocks. I expect you to suck it up and soldier on, you understand me? Once we go out that door, the sole goal is to get
as much candy as is absolutely possible. With any luck we will have enough chocolate, caramel, nougat, powdered sugar,
and chewy filling to keep us in a diabetic coma until Christmas.
“But, we cannot do it unless we work together.
“So what’s our motto?”
“Rot our teeth!”
“What’s our code?”
“Leave the peppermints to the babies!”
“All right, men, when it starts to get rough out there and we come across that stretch of houses where it’s nothing but Dum-
Dum lollipops and Flintstones vitamins for miles, and it seems like the teenagers have stopped even pretending to be in
costume, what are you going to do?”
“Knock on the next door, sir!”
“That’s right, men. That’s right.
“Now, I want you to hit those streets running. Ignore the sidewalks, leap over the hedges, go ahead and cut across
Widow Grundy’s back yard. Remember, on Halloween, a kid in a costume is an unstoppable force. When you come
home with that humongous haul of delicious treats, the only thing that can keep you from eating candy until you puke is if
your parents get to all the good stuff before you do.”
- Halloween Blood and Guts
1 pound of low-fat turkey kielbasa
4 cans of SpaghettiOs
1 tablespoon of olive oil
1 tablespoon of butter
WHAT YOU DO:
1. Slice the kielbasa into 1/4-inch disks.
2. Heat a skillet on medium high. Melt the butter in the skillet, then add the olive oil.
3. Fry the kielbasa until it begins to brown, about 5 minutes.
4. Add the SpaghettiOs and heat it through.
5. Serve it up in bowls and release the dogs of war…er…let the kids go trick or treating.
Copyright 2007
Macho Chef is a registered trademark
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