Fifty Shades of Boo: A Grey Halloween

Night of the Living Greys

"Are you staying for the apocalypse?" The Hunchback of Notre Dame, or rather Dan Lumis of Mockingbird Lane asks as we pass him on the sidewalk trying to make our way back to our car and escape the hell that is trick-or-treating. I'm muddy, soaking wet and my leg is still smoking from the fire. Staying for apocalypse? I think I already lived through it.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, not sure why I did, because I don't want to fucking know. The last time I asked Lumis anything I had a seventeen minute conversation about his hemorrhoids and how his wife left him. I'm not sure if there was a direct correlation or not. I would've left him, too, but it was Easter mass and I was already stuck to my pew with two kids dressed as bunnies.

"The zombies!" he shouts in a sing-song spooky voice, waving his arms around for dramatic effect. "They're coming this way. We all have to run for our lives!" He really takes this Halloween thing seriously. I still don't know what the fuck he's talking about.

"Daddy, let's stay for zombies!" Teddy says. "I want to see them eat all the brains."

"How do you know about that?"

"Uncle Elliot told me."

"So that's where his went." I laugh. I make a mental note to never leave Elliot unsupervised with Teddy again. Speaking of Elliot, I wonder what this surprise costume is he's wearing tonight. If he tries to steal my candy this time, I'll be ready. I've waited over twenty years for payback and tonight vengeance is mine.

"Sorry, we'll have to miss the brain eating," I say. "We have a party to get to. But, I'm sure there will be some zombies there." They won't even have to dress up. "Come along, kids."

"I'm gonna sit on the curb and wait for them," Dan says, actually sitting his ass on the curb. Appropriate, since his wife kicked him to there. I guess his hemorrhoids are under control now. "I'll keep a spot warm for you if you change your mind!" He waves.

"Have fun, Dan!" I wave back. Less bye-bye, more fuck-off.

I usher the children away and we continue our trek. I never knew how difficult it was to escape a suburban neighborhood. The light rain that started to fall is gaining weight by the second and so is the fur on this costume.

"Daddy, your son is getting all wet and grouchy," Phoebe says as I work to open her umbrella with my paws.

I look to Teddy who's twirling his own umbrella, playing hopscotch in the puddles.

"Teddy's fine," I say. "He's skipping."

"No, I'm not. I'm taking out snails!"

I shake my head. "Don't get snail guts on your shoes! Your mother will kill me!"

"Not Teddy, Daddy!" Phoebe says, blowing her bangs in sheer exasperation at my ignorance. "Your other son, Chester!" The little fur ball twitches his nose, presumably in hunt for a snack of my flesh. Why are some rodents considered pets who wear slippers and you spend holidays with and others you call the Orkin Man for?

"Chester's my son?" I ask. She nods. "I thought he was my brother." She nods. "Who's also a movie star?" She nods. "And who's his mommy?"

"Mommy."

"Last week she was his sister." She nods once more. I'm not sure how this family tree works. Does that make Chester his own father, his own son or me a real rat? Hollywood types are so fucked up.

"Help me with my handle, Taylor," I say, holding the disobedient rod in place.

"What's the matter, sir?"

"I just can get the thing to pop off."

"Did you squeeze it gently in the middle?"

"I can't squeeze anything! My paws don't bend. I need you to squeeze it for me."