I (sometimes) call myself Mr. Pondersome. I'm a rather wordy, weirdy person. I say hullo a lot. I write a lot more. While you're here, why not give some of it a read?

Monday, 31 October 2016

HORROR FOR 99p! (a.k.a. Affordable Fright for All Hallows' Eve)

    Here's what I did for my kid last Halloween.
    I went down to Pound Trove, went straight to their shitty seasonal section.
    Cut-up bin bag capes, slutty makeup packs, bone gloves with the plastic knuckles already coming off. American pumpkin trick or treat bowls, glow-in-the-dark bat stickers, fangs that would snap as soon as you bit down properly.
    I sifted through the bargain bucket full of scythes, bright red pitchforks and even sodding skull axes. Double-edged, mind.
    He said he wanted one of those but one pound for a plastic stick that would fall apart as soon as batter a wall? I left them all exactly where they were.
    I went down the way to the 99p shop. I bought a mop, a trowel, a squeezy bottle of super glue and some silver glitter. I was home in half an hour.
    First things first, I cut the mop in two; just needed half the black handle really. Then I took the trowel out to the garden and found Dusty. I brought her up to the surface.
    Have you ever seen a pug's skull? Ugly, deformed thing. Pitiable but also nasty. I stuck it right on the end of the mop. I managed to fix the tube into one of the eye sockets. Those crooked teeth really shone when I started painting them.
    At the end I had a truly fucking horrible mace. If he hit one of the neighbour kids with that, I thought, I'll marmalise him.
    There was just one thing missing: with all the glitter paint it looked far too camp. So I cut open my ring fingertip and let a little trickle of blood out, winding down the stick. I even briefly considered one of Dusty's feet as a stopper for the other end but that would be cruel to her memory.
    So I left it at that, let the boy have the thing.
    Chuffed, he was. Didn't get many treats though.