I knew what disappointment sounded like, having been addressed with it by my stepmother for far too long.
My guest stood in the entrance way and studied the living room like he hadn’t spent every Sunday in it for the past few years.
As always, he was sharply dressed in an impeccably tailored suit. This week, he wore an orange and black striped tie, which explained his question.
“Of course I know it’s October,” I replied nonchalantly. “The Yankees are in the playoffs.”
I knew that would push his buttons, and for some reason, I was in the mood to do so.
Lucifer slowly made his way across the room, still checking for the Halloween decorations he was never going to find.
“October 1 marks the start of Halloween Season in Maine, Austin, a fact which I know you are aware because you used to dedicate the entire month to writing Halloween posts for your blog. We’re now a week into October, and there’s been no Halloween posts, nor any sign of the holiday at The House on the Hill. What the Hell is going on here?”
I almost spit out my Snapple at the last remark.
“And you prefer to blog about running and buying jars of pickles for attractive women,” The Prince of Darkness quipped as he sat down on his end of the couch.
“In my defense, you are always getting on me to find a date,” I shot back at him.
“Not at the expense of Halloween,” Satan grumbled. “This is the happiest time of year in Maine. Otherworldly Beings are flocking to the state, thrilled to finally be able to live out in the open, and that’s a big deal at a time when this nation is getting a little too White Supremacist-y for my taste. There’s something beautiful and ironic about a state that’s whiter than a Republican Congress welcoming Otherworldly Beings with open arms.”
“When President Trumpenstein was promising to make America great again, he wasn’t talking about Maine,” I pointed out. “We were already totally awesome and open minded.”
“You need to get into the Halloween spirit,” The Devil insisted. “It will make you more appealing to the fairer sex. Chicks dig a guy who displays his Jack O’ Lantern proudly.”
“I will see what I can do,” I promised. “I do love Halloween, but I’m just so distracted this year. I don’t know if I’ll be able to find the time like I normally do.”
“Find the time,” Lucifer advised. “With that clown in the White House making such a mockery of things, people need to be reassured that there is a much scarier clown wandering the streets of Maine with a pretty red balloon. Remind America that Halloween is here to save them from their extremely frightening reality.”
I took a long sip of my Snapple and studied The Prince of Darkness, who seemed so content as visions of candy corn danced in his head.
“I’m not sure I understand your logic,” I had to confess, “but I will do what I can to release my inner Pumpkin King and give myself over to the season.”
“You will thank me later,” Satan promised. “Plus, I want a cut of all the Halloween candy you collect.”
He’s always got an angle, but I guess I didn’t really mind since I don’t need all that sugar anyway. Plus, there’s no way he’s getting my red balloon…