Halloween

Currently listening to: "Walking on a Dream" by Empire of the Sun.

I embraced it and I feared it this year. I mean, I live in Australia. Halloween is usually just another night, sometimes acknowledged and treated with the same amount of wariness as Friday the 13th, but nevertheless unimportant.

Until this year.

Heck, what happened this year? As far back as I care to remember, this year went off like nobody's business. And it was surreal.

My first tip-off was the Halloween merch sales at job number one. Usually each year we get heaps of the stuff, we have nowhere to put it, it becomes something of an eyesore, and is eagerly stashed into toys once November 1 rolls around. This year, however, we couldn’t replenish the stock fast enough. So much so, in fact, that our dearest manager, Dolly, allowed us to dress up and listen to something other than the regulatory music our store is forced to endure. Yep, you guessed it. Thrillers all around.

…Of course I got stuck with making the music (naturally).

It was actually fairly easy, once I decided to embrace the stereotypical Halloween songs. At first I’m all, “There is NO WAY we’re listening to the Time Warp. Nope. Nada.” Then, after my alternate songs ran dry—I managed to find a Prodigy remix of “Ghost Town” and Siobhan’s “Ghosts”—I just gave into the Mash. The Monster Mash.

…You may or may not find me guilty of also slipping in a little “Talk Like That” by The Presets. My argument (apart from the fact that, as a piece of seriously awesome Aussie music that deserves to be flaunted wherever possible) was that it sounded so stereotypically retro, so why not, right? Even if the lyrics has nothing to do with the big H, per se.


Embracing our inner demons, with blood on our necks--AmEx, Dolly (top) and Peggy and me (bottom).

My turn to rock the meat cleaver. Oh yeah.

Anyways, it was totally worth it. We ended up making double what we usually do, so everybody wins. When I told my boss at job number two about it, he just looked at me and said, “Don’t expect that here.”

Being my usual nosy-journalist-in-training self, I ask “Why?”

“Because it’s a stupid American tradition and it makes me sick. If any kids come to my door and ask for a freaking trick or treat, I tell them ‘GO TO FREAKING AMERICA IF YOU WANT A FREAKING TREAT! GET AWAY FROM MY HOUSE!’”

Nevertheless, by this time I’m blinking at him in shocked silence, mentally apologising to the trauma those poor kids must suffer ever October 31st. Instead, I just reply meekly:

“Um. Pretty sure Halloween is an Irish tradition.”

Someone must love me, otherwise I may have gotten fired at that moment.