I am all decorated for Halloween at my house! The two graveyards are up and running with new skeleton bones, black cats, a zombie gnome, and even a zombie flamingo. Classic. Of course, as you get nearer to my door, the cuteness factor happens with springy dancing pumpkins, a giant witch’s hat and even a doormat that cackles at you. I love Halloween. It happens to be my favorite holiday. I love dressing up, the decorations, everything about Halloween. When I was a teen, I loved dressing up and taking my younger siblings trick or treating. It never got old. Nowadays, I like to go to BFF’s house and see the hoards of children that come over there since they live near a school that BFF’s Momma works at, so all the kids know her. It is loads of fun. Thinking of Halloween, made me remember one of the saddest Halloweens my poor Bubby has ever had.
My Bubby must have been about four years old…old enough to be super excited about going trick or treating with me. He could hardly stand it…I can’t even remember what his costume was going to be but knowing my parents, something handmade and awesome. My Dad used to always dress up as Dracula and go trick or treating with us….He is so awesome. He even made a shirt with a bloody stake coming out of it and real vampire fangs. My parents were always great with Halloween and obviously understood how much I loved it as well. So, there we were, the night before Halloween and everyone, but me, was outside enjoying the fall weather of Phoenix. Not being an outdoor girl, I was inside curled up on the couch with a book (did you expect anything less?). The little ones were playing with several ride on toys, including one that we called “the chicken” although now I find out it was supposed to be a banana. Who makes a ride on banana? Apparently Tyke Toys does. Because every child wants to ride a giant yellow banana with a face and hair on it. Because that isn’t what nightmares are made of at all. Why don’t they just make a clown toy to ride on with its creepy face? To make it even creepier, this didn’t even have a mouth. Because bananas don’t have mouths but they have hair? Here…I shall show you…because apparently they still make this creepy ride on toy for children.
Bubby LOVED this toy so much that when he saw it in the toy store a few years prior, he rode it all around and refused to get off it. He even screamed when my Dad attempted to remove him from it, so home it came with us. Now, at this point, since he was about 4, Bubby was really too old to ride the said “chicken” as he called it. But he was NOT, in any way shape or form, going to let our 2-year-old Seester ride on it. There was some sort of shoving match and Bubby took control of the “chicken” and started to ride it down the driveway. I was blissfully unaware of any incidents happening outside as I was lost in my book. I suddenly heard a blood curdling scream, followed instantly by one in my Mother’s voice and my sister wailing….LOUDLY. The door from the garage was flung open and my Dad came running into the house, Bubby tucked under his arm like a football. My Mom was following closely screaming and crying. My baby Seester was still screaming and crying in the driveway and I could not figure out what had happened, I quickly got up to get my Seester, who had been abandoned in the driveway and was shrieking her head off, matching the cacophony that was now occurring in the bathroom with Mom and Dad yelling at each other and Bubby crying at the top of his lungs. It was then I saw a trail of blood from the garage leading to the bathroom. Seester’s screaming had now reached epic proportions and I still had no idea what had happened so I ran out to get her. And walked into my own private horror movie. There was blood everywhere. All over the driveway, the chicken, the garage and my Seester had apparently fallen and walked in some of it and made little bloody hand and footprints everywhere before sitting in the pool of blood on the driveway. Good lord! This all had just happened within a few minutes….why did it look like a scene from the movie Halloween out here? I felt like this:
I picked up the bloody baby and ran back into the house in time to hear my Mom (who is not the calmest person in a crisis) asking my Dad what to do while she is still screaming and crying. Dad yells at her to get the car keys because he was calling the oral surgeon and he yells at me to go be with Bubby. I went into the bathroom where poor Bubby, also a bloody mess, was sitting on the counter with his tongue hanging on by a thin chunk. And I mean thin. It was pretty gnarly. Looking back on it, I probably should not have taken Seester into the bathroom with me as she started screaming again and it might be where her fear of blood originated. I mean, if I was 2 and starred in my own private Halloween movie toddling around in blood in my bare feet and seeing my Bubby’s tongue barely hanging on, I might be afraid of blood as well. Poor Bubby, after shoving Seester off the “chicken”, rode it down the driveway and hit a crack in the pavement. He then toppled forward, being to big to ride on the “chicken”in the first place, and landed on his chin on the cement, biting through his tongue in the process. And I don’t mean a little bit. He almost bit the whole thing off. It was super gnarly and I quickly wet a washcloth and put it around his sad tongue and had him hold it thorough his crying and screaming. Mom and Dad came back in and grabbed him, going to the oral surgeon that my Dad knew through the military because as Dad said he “was not about to let some resident sew the tongue back on”. I was left, stunned at the peaceful book read that had been interrupted, with a bloody Seester, still crying, in my arms and wondering what to do. Needless to say, baby Seester was bathed, rocked and fed ice cream. After putting her to bed, I went and attempted to clean up the mini horror movie in the garage while awaiting the rest of the bloody family to get back.
Bubby came home, pale and sedated, with a tongue that had been sewn back on with a lot of stitches. Poor Bubby. Mom and Dad put him to bed and I was thanked for cleaning up the mini horror movie in the house and garage. The next day, poor Bubby’s tongue was so swollen he could not even put it in his mouth. It just hung out there, stitches and all. He couldn’t hardly eat or talk so it was decided by the parental units that trick or treating was out for the little man. Fresh tears ran down his face as he realized he couldn’t go and watched me and Seester get ready. We tried to make giving out candy to other kids seem exciting. Bubby was so mad, he went out to the garage, picked up “chicken” and threw it down, breaking one of the wheels and thereby putting the poor chicken/banana to rest. Seester and I went out with my friends and we collected candy for poor Bubby so he could eat it later when his tongue wasn’t so swollen and told his sad story to every door we went to get even more candy. It was his saddest Halloween ever. Needless to say, Bubby’s tongue healed beautifully and his speech or eating the shit ton of candy we collected was not affected.
Oh yeah. I didn’t die toady. Instead, I remembered one of the saddest Halloween Bubby has ever experienced and might have determined where Seester’s fear of blood comes from. I am Fat Girl who once was part of her own personal mini horror movie Running. The experiment continues…