In which I make a kid's Halloween
In which I make a kid's Halloween
The novel thing will kick off tonight. After stupid work.
Just wanted to make a note. Last night, our store did a costume contest. After trick-or-treating (or whatever), the folks could bring the kids by the store and get their picture taken, be a part of the contest.
Well, I'm working down one of the aisles, and I see a mother with two boys in costume walk in the door.
The younger boy's costume is pretty easy to recognize: Superman. Got the blue tights, fake muscles, awesome red cape. All said, even storebought, it was a good costume.
The second boy, the older brother, took me a second. He was wearing a black tank top, black pants, and had a couple sets of chains down each side. He had a blue bandana on, and tattoos up and down each arm. From afar, I was thinking that maybe he was a pirate, and I opted toward biker as I got closer.
And it wasn't until I got right up on the kid that I saw a fake tattoo that said "Sara" across the front of his neck.
"Superman," I say to the smaller boy, and then to his brother: "Undertaker."
The older boy's eyes Light UP.
"He knew!" he says to his mom. "He knew who I was supposed to be!"
The boy was dressed as the Undertaker when he was in the midst of his Biker/American Badass gimmick, between stints as a "Deadman."
We took their picture for the contest, and I told the boy (who was 10) that I've been watching The Undertaker since way before he was born.
His mom told me that he'd wanted to design his own costume, and he found all the gear for it. But nobody, either trick-or-treating or at his church had any idea who he was supposed to be. It had made his day that somebody had known.
For once, that boatload of wrestling info that rampages through my head on a daily basis comes in handy.
The novel thing will kick off tonight. After stupid work.
Just wanted to make a note. Last night, our store did a costume contest. After trick-or-treating (or whatever), the folks could bring the kids by the store and get their picture taken, be a part of the contest.
Well, I'm working down one of the aisles, and I see a mother with two boys in costume walk in the door.
The younger boy's costume is pretty easy to recognize: Superman. Got the blue tights, fake muscles, awesome red cape. All said, even storebought, it was a good costume.
The second boy, the older brother, took me a second. He was wearing a black tank top, black pants, and had a couple sets of chains down each side. He had a blue bandana on, and tattoos up and down each arm. From afar, I was thinking that maybe he was a pirate, and I opted toward biker as I got closer.
And it wasn't until I got right up on the kid that I saw a fake tattoo that said "Sara" across the front of his neck.
"Superman," I say to the smaller boy, and then to his brother: "Undertaker."
The older boy's eyes Light UP.
"He knew!" he says to his mom. "He knew who I was supposed to be!"
The boy was dressed as the Undertaker when he was in the midst of his Biker/American Badass gimmick, between stints as a "Deadman."
We took their picture for the contest, and I told the boy (who was 10) that I've been watching The Undertaker since way before he was born.
His mom told me that he'd wanted to design his own costume, and he found all the gear for it. But nobody, either trick-or-treating or at his church had any idea who he was supposed to be. It had made his day that somebody had known.
For once, that boatload of wrestling info that rampages through my head on a daily basis comes in handy.
posted by Tommy at
07:43
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