Last week, I met a kid that used to hang out with my gang when they were in grade school and then highschool. He's gotta be about 12 now, I think. He has a license that is an obvious fake because it says he's 26. But I am not that many years older. Unless my kids were adopted. Hey, yeah, maybe they were adopted.
This kid remembered the screaming Halloween's we used to do.

When my kids were in grade school I was in my "Crafty" phrase. I would make anything out of practically nothing. Everyone in the neighborhood knew I could create great costumes out of household leftovers, so usually the requests started comming in about 2 weeks before Halloween. "I have some duct tape and a stick. I was hoping you could make me a fairy for the party?"
One year, I got bored. I wanted to do something different. The usual suspects were hanging around the kitchen, so I volunteered them to make a door to door play.

I insisted they create it. I supplied the homemade pizza, and the plot outline, and they amazingly created a play in about 30 minutes. We had a bad guy and girl and a hero. It was simple. Paul, my ten-year-old son, insisted he be not just a hero, but a “Super Hero.” He already had the cape. Jennifer, his sister's best friend, wanted to be "The Girl." She was two years older and a head taller than the Super Hero. A small smile slide across Paul's lips when Jennifer got the part. I didn't think much of it. I mean, he was only 10.
Everyone else's characters fell into place. It kind of went like this...They each said "Who will I be then?"
And then one of them would say, "Oh, you can be the Sheriff."
"There isn't any sheriff."
"There is now."
"Okay."
"But what about me?"
"You can be the Audience."
“What should I say?”
"Boo. You can be a booer.”

We had several "Audience" parts.
We used real life circumstances to build the plot....Okay, it's an old joke and they adjusted it. It was good. Everyone had a sentence to say.
"Pay, the Rent!"
"Oh, I can't pay the rent."
"I'll pay the rent."
"You're under arrest."
"My hero."
With "boos" and "Yeahs" mixed in. Then Jennifer kissed the Super Hero on the cheek. The end.
It was great!

The super hero and the sheriff added a new twist. They practiced dialogue out of earshot, so I couldn't influence their artistic abilities. My job was wardrobe anyway. I piled everyone into the car and we drove to the best place for costumes, Good Will.

I found a thick yellow belt to go with the red cape. Jane found a sheriffs hat. Renee found a black "Bad Guy" coat and a mustache. Jennifer found a pink prom dress. I thought we were ready.

I drove back into the neighborhood and suddenly, all the actresses wanted to be "The Girl." Paul was adamant about sticking to the original players. Jennifer sat pleased as punch holding the bag full of prom dress, but the girls were bummed. Half of the audience, the sheriff and the bad guy wanted to wear that dress.
"Really, that dress drags on the ground when you wear it. It would fit me." my eldest daughter, Renee said.
She was right; she was taller. I checked in the mirror and Paul was giving her a look of absolute death.

"OH, NO!" I shouted as I turned the wheel frantically to the left.
"What?" they all cried panicking from the back of the station wagon.
"The car can only go LEFT!" and to demonstrate I slowed down and tried to pull the wheel to the right towards our house and it dragged to the left and we turned away.
They all started bouncing around in the back yelling. Half of the kids did not know I was kidding.
"What'll we do?" squeaked one little girl.
"The only thing we can do," I said in a defeated voice as I pushed the automatic windows open. "Every time I turn the corner scream at the top of your lungs!" I shouted.
Then I turned the corner going left and they all screamed. It was marvelous. We drove past neighbors on the street and they stared at us in wonder.
"It's working!" I shouted, "Keep screaming!"
They did and they were thrilled. The girls forgot all about the pink prom dress.

We got back to home base and I helped them put their costumes together.. The audience was hard. I told them to clap loud. We practiced booing. Then the kids dispursed promising to return the next evening, Halloween, at 6pm.

Halloween night they all got together at our house costumed and full of first night jitters. I marched them outside before the stage fright took over. The first house we came to they performed perfectly.
Jennifer said, "My hero!" and pecked Paul on the cheek.
He blushed scarlet, and raced up to the next house ahead of everyone else to do it all over again.
And we did, but each time the actors were improving the script.
"Pay, the Rent!" became "Pay the rent, Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha!"
Paul shouted, "I’ll save you!" and leapt onto the porches. Then he'd twist the Bad Guy's arm behind her back and shout, "Take him Sheriff!" The sheriff muscled in on the Super Hero and said things like "You want I should cuff ‘em?" or "Step back audience, I'm arresting this varmint!"
It was pretty fantastic. The neighbors closed up their doors and decided to follow us and watch how the play progressed. We went to about ten homes and collected about 30 fans and a bunch of candy. But we wanted all eight of our actors' families to see the play, so I piled the players into the station wagon, as we heard cries from the neighbors like,
"But I wanted my brother to see this!"

The car got "Left" disease again so we had to scream around every corner to make it go. We got out at each actor's house laughing and giggling and performed the play.
The parents went nuts. They thought it was terrific. "My daughter, the actress!"
“He looks just like Cary Grant!”
Each time we presented the play, the parents would close up their houses and follow us to the next actor’s home. By the time we made our way to the last house, we had turned into a huge caravan lead by a station wagon full of screaming costumed kids.

It was late and the kids were tired, almost hoarse from screaming. So I said "This is it. Last house, then you can all go home."
"THIS IS IT?" Paul shouted.
"Yes, no more after this. Until, next year."
"Awwww."
"Let's make this the best one, Okay?" I said, "Here's another corner."
They screamed me around it.

We arrived on the little actresses' doorstep. It was one of the audience girls. Everything was going great. All the ad libs were hammered down and the play that originally took about 2 minutes now took 15 to perform. But we never expected what happened. Paul came up with a brand new finish all on his own.
The Bad Guy was dastardly, the sheriff was cuffing him; Jennifer said, "My Hero!"
And as she went to peck Paul's cheek, he put his arm around her neck, swooped her over backwards and kissed her full on the lips.

It was just like in the movies!

"I still remember the look on Jennifer's face. She seemed to get a little breathless," I said.
"That's when I said, "Could I be the hero next year?" the kid with the 26 year old license said.
"Oh, my God yeah and we all cracked up."
"Yeah, I was a good audience," he said.
"You were the best "Boo-er." I said.
"How is Jennifer?"
"I think she is a nuclear physicist or something."
"What are you doing?"
"I'm playing the part of an out of work actor attempting to be a paid waiter."
I congratulated him on his ability to really enhance the character, and I left him a good tip.

That's the lastest from LaLa land.
Where all the waiters are famous actors someday.

Carol Wood still screams as she turns corners. You can email her at Carol@hazelst.com