-By Orv Alveshere-
TRICK OR TREAT HOLIDAY WITH HOBGOBLINS
Halloween has always been eagerly awaited by gals and guys.
Costumes and masks have been sought, wanting to be a master of disguise.
Meals inhaled, rooms briskly cleaned and new speed records for finishing chores.
They traipsed around the block, also knocking on friends’ and relatives’ doors.
A ghostly holiday with orange and black, specters, spooks, candy and sweets.
Cities and villages and countryside decorate for tricks or treats.
An annual warning from the past comes to mind and floods our mem’ry banks
Of aggravation and inconvenience from Halloween cranks and pranks.
TIPTOE THROUGH THE TOILETS
Since our Nation’s birth, until recent decades, there was consternation.
Scheming rowdy rascals upended the upright sanitation station!
There may be some remaining relics in villages on the prairie.
Scuttlebutt tales of whistling frigid winter breezes are legendary.
We’re ‘privy’ to reports of 50-yard dashes to the outhouse doors.
Imagine tiptoed sprints in desperation for the compulsory chores.
Trips were made through odoriferous steamy summer heat and chilled snowbanks.
Outhouses have been replaced. There are few targets for Halloween pranks.
I DIG COMFORT STATIONS (NOT A SPEED RECORD)
In my 12th year I was assigned to dig a new pit for the shack.
Rain loosened the earth. I dug for weeks ‘in’ the new site for the shack out back.
Maximum deposits have been made. A barrier of board fence
Protected contents and our feet. That seemed to make a lot of scents, er, sense
We moved the Sears catalogs also, but much to our consternation
The cobwebs soon followed, and there was a tilt to our comfort station.
Outgoing as a child, we installed indoor plumbing. We also gave thanks.
Far from town, we were not on the route for those spooky Halloween pranks.
REVILLE GET YOUR BUTT OUT (OF) THERE
Pranksters anonymous harnessed cows and horses inside schools – charades that left a mess.
Honest youth impersonated by wearing other’s clothes, to make us guess.
Anguished cries were heard throughout the land. Prone outhouses, thought unattended,
Held nervously ‘hurrying’ insiders’ trapped as two cans were upended.
Such language you’ve never heard from inside those stinky situations.
Clandestine, sneaky tipsters thought it was howling fun to tip those stations.
Ev’ry year they tried their ‘level’ best to find HIS toilet that stunk, or stank.
That man tried to think a ‘head’, because thrones were thrown to the ground as pranks.
BEWARE: FAINTHEARTED READERS, DISCONTINUE READING
Valiant (k)nights didn’t put their best foot forward. It was not levitation.
They found new meanings for stepstools. They needed fumigation.
Leaving no stone or can unturned, shenanigans had ghastly repercussions!
We’ll ‘pit’ their tale against your ‘hold your nose’ Halloween discussions.
A BUBBLE OFF ‘LEVEL’ PRANKSTERS/GARNISHED FOOTWEAR
That Rock Lake man had a plan for those sneaky guys who made stealthy rounds
To upend all those tall thunder houses in those villages and towns.
Using a plan so iffy, as he wanted to catch them red-handed.
He picked ‘up’ and moved ‘back’ his target biggy. Apologies demanded,
Those pranksters wished we hadn’t reported them … or their messy news.
In time they hope to forget, but they never, ever again wore those shoes!
Comfort stations were relics of the past. Don’t call that man a CRANK.
It’s a haunting lesson. He was … just … one step … ahead of a Halloween Prank!!
Copyright 1993, rewritten August 2008 by Orv Alveshere