You are, without a doubt, my favorite holiday. That's not to say that you're perfect, because you're not, but your imperfections are what make you perfect in my sentimental eyes. I love that you give every shut-in a chance to rally a friend to watch Blood Feast because getting out of the house isn't that much fun anyway, or to eat candy excessively and then get really bad stomachaches afterward. I love that you give people a sensible reason to scare others, or to walk around unfamiliar neighborhoods in dangerously sight-obscuring masks, or that you let everyone feel like they're five again. I love that you give every loser a chance to be Ferris Bueller or Jill Valentine, if only just for one day.
In short, I love you a lot. Thanks for giving me a free twenty-four hour pass to Being Cool.
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| Gearing up, late '70's style |
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