Wait. You thought Halloween was over just because it’s November 1st? Boy were you wrong. Sit back and prepare yourself for another month of Halloween. Here’s a short story to get you feeling the mood…
“Look kid, don’t make us call your parents to come get you. Just tell us what you and your friends did.”
The officer stares at me across the table. I wish I could say this was my first time in the police station. At least I can safely say that this time I did nothing wrong.
Halloween night, 6:00pm
We were hooligans. But the kind with hearts of gold. Gold plated. Alright, the kind of gold that turns your skin green from prolonged exposure. We had started onto our path of hijinks over the summer. What can I say? They were all fifteen and I was the fourteen years old only child that wanted to fit in. And maybe, just maybe, I was also the de facto ringleader.
All throughout summer we had taken to sneaking into the junk yard to get the parts needed to rebuild our friend’s motorcycle. They had the know how, I had the brawn to carry the parts. It was a dream team. Sort of. It took two weeks after the bike was running for it to fall over muffler first onto Ron’s calf. So now it was Halloween and he was still going through treatments where they peeled the skin off of his leg so shenanigans were out for him. But the rest of us were bored. So bored. Already drinking lost its appeal. Weed was still a good time but it was Halloween. Dammit. What do we do?
“Let’s run from the cops.” Warren looked at us all.
“Why?” I wasn’t opposed to the plan. It was better than nothing.
“To get them to chase us.”
I looked around the room and through the haze of smoke I saw nodding heads. “So we see a cop and we just take off?”
“Yep. Cut through yards. See how long until they catch us.”
I felt all of their eyes on me. Let’s go back to when I said I was the brawn. It’s because I was fat. Not chunky. Not portly. No. Morbidly obese. It was ridiculous. I had a bicycle with an odometer on it and we rode over a thousand miles that summer. Yet the way my thighs rubbed together as I walked made it seem like I just laid in a bed of Cheetos. That was after the bike rides. I just didn’t have a grasp on that yet. So the law of averages stayed the first of us to get caught would be me, the slow one that wheezed up stairs.
If I have ever been anything, it is self aware.
So we smoked some more and went outside. Halloween in Illinois was always a precursor to Winter no matter what the calendar said. It was cold and rainy. We walked around until we saw the first squad car and made sure he saw us looking suspicious in no costumes. When he turned towards us we scattered.
I don’t know how far we ran. How many yards we his in as the spotlight made its way slowly over the fence. But we ran for hours. Laughing like madmen we would get to the sidewalk and wait patiently for the cherries to make there way closer and then we were off again.
It was a different time back then. None of us even considered getting shot. Or tased. Or anything. We just saw the cops and we laughed and ran.
I wasn’t the first kid caught either. A combination of puberty and cool weather kept me moving. I didn’t always lead the pack but I didn’t trail far behind it either. We began to fall, one at a time. Soon it was Warren and I alone. That’s when they got smart and cornered us in an alley. No cuffs. No pat down. Just thrown in the back of squad car where we laughed and laughed all the way to the station.
When we got there they threw us all into one room. I was shocked to see two of the guys with tears on their faces.
“They said they are gonna call our parents!”
I held up a hand. “For what? Running?”
They all looked at me as the lightbulb clicked. For once, we were innocent. So we just reminded ourselves of that as they took us into the interrogation room one at a time.
“You were just running?”
“Two reasons really. I am fat and could use the exercise,” I didn’t appreciate the nods, “and because it was fun having you chase us all night. I’m clearly not the only one that needs the exercise.”
They arched their eyebrows but then patted their ample bellies and reluctantly nodded again.
“So to get it straight, you thought it would be fun to get chased by police officers? What kind of idiot idea is that?”
“You kept chasing us…”
“Get your friends and get the fuck out of here!”
There were Halloweens in costumes with tons of candy. There were Halloweens spent drunk at great parties, on hayrides, doing scavenger hunts. But this one will always stick out as just sheer fun. And one that cannot be recreated in this day and age.
Next year, remind me to tell you about the scavenger hunt in the old creepy cemetery. It has hijinks, booze, drugs and even some sex.
M. Ennenbach is a lot of things. Part time dreamer. Full time poet. Scribbler of tales. An Illinois yankee in DFW, but don’t hold any of that against him. A proud father of two that he loves more than life itself. His stories are written from a place of raw emotion, stripped pieces of the man himself spun into powerful trips through nightmare and daydream. Sometimes bleak, at others hilarious but always unique glimpses of another realm; his words will take you on a journey. His first collection, Notches, is available on Amazon and Death’s Head Press with more on the way.
A Collection of dark, twisted and some humorous stories including an epic dark poem from the tormented mind of M. Ennenbach. Each story will give you a window into the darkness of the soul. Fueled by raw, powerful emotions. They will chew you up and spit you out, leaving you quivering on the floor in a gruesome mess begging for more. Are you brave enough to traverse the dark path laid before you or will you become another notch on the wall?