Bungalow in the Hollow: This is Halloween

This is Halloween, everybody make a scene
Trick or treat till the neighbors gonna die of fright
It's our town, everybody scream
In this town of Halloween

Nice score at a thrift store, mom!

Mr. BITH as the grim reaper. This was sent to me via mobile phone.

Ms. Lili still loves Mr. B (not to be confused with Mr. BITH) despite his [un]funny face.

In our last place there were no trick-or-treaters. Even though I wasn't at the house to see 'Penny the Pirate' and all of the others - they definitely showed up for goodies. Mr. BITH and Mr. B doled out the candy and apparently scared a few kiddies without even trying. Once they saw the talking headstone they didn't even want to come around the corner to where the spider dropped. Mr. BITH and Mr. B ran out of candy (even the reserve stuff), closed up shop and headed to the bar. I *think* they had fun too.

These were the toughest, thickest pumpkins we ever attempted to carve. Got them from the State Farmers Market in Forest Park. Next year? Better, sharper tools. Maybe we'll actually finish them in 2009, lol.

Meanwhile, up in KC . . .

I guess our evening was scary enough. Here's how it went.

Us: Okay, we'll follow you to the restaurant. Where is it in general?
Them: Uh, you go on the interstate and then go next to a bridge. Don't go under it, go around it then turn right. It's somewhere in that neighborhood.
Us: Which interstate? Which bridge - and which right?
Them: Err, I don't remember exactly what street. Just follow.

:inside our car:

Me: There they are. You okay to follow? I need to check messages.
The driver: Yeah, go ahead
Me: Dials voicemail. Blah, blah, blah. Text, text, text. Checking e-mail, etc.
::Looks up:: Is that them? Wow, Bruce is going pretty fast.
The driver: Hmm. Yeah, he is usually better at letting people follow him.

>>>Phone rings>>>

Them: Where are you?
Me: On the interstate following you.
Them: We aren't on the interstate.

You can bet that based on the directions given previously that it wasn't easy to find them or the restaurant, but we eventually managed to find it . . . somewhere near a bridge, off the interstate after we took a right-hand turn. Yeah.

I walked into Garozzo's (locals told me later that this place is tied to the mafia. Who knows? Makes the story better) where the maître d' showed us to the table without me having to say a thing. Apparently, Bruce had told him that they were waiting for a red headed hussy. Hmmph. I was actually a hillbilly vampire . . . Whatever. The spiedini was so fabulous.

Be afraid. Seriously. Those fangs caused major drool.