Jack Pearadin and Doug Nelsen found a 1.73-carat diamond after nearly a year of searching the park's field.
The one in the Cheney mask shot me. Or tried to. I told him he’d have to pay for fixing the big hole he blew in my front door and he told me to go do something unnatural to myself.
That was scary enough, but then the one in the O. J. Simpson mask came at me with a skinning knife. Something about using my gallstones for golf balls.
The only other violence was the one trick-or-treat drive-by, guy in a Road Rage mask (purple, with veins bulging and steam coming out the ears), pointing a crossbow out the window of a hearse with a Louisiana stiff in the back late for autopsy. Happy Halloween to you too, sockcucker!, as Calamity Jane’s dyslexic twin sister used to say.
Maybe that wasn’t a mask, I thought later.
I had the same feeling about the one in the Osama bin Laden costume. More likely here than behind any one of those Pakistani rocks.
I thought those who came as the Rolling Stones might have been the real McCoy too. You can’t get furrows that deep into a rubber mask that thin. But none of these had the dazed, goofy look you get falling out of a coconut tree.
The one in the latter-day Jerry Jones mask wasn’t armed and made no threats but crept me out pretty bad nonetheless. Apologies to his puller, however, as it might not even have been Jerry Jones. You’d get the same no-blink jungle boogie these days by cheek-thumping Kenny Rogers or Burt Reynolds or Billy Bob T.
The one in the retired Exxon CEO costume looked over my trick-or-treat wares — Tootsie Rolls, bite-size Baby Ruths, fried Twinkies from the recent state fair — and said if it was all the same to me I could skip the candy corn and just write him out another $400 million check.
I told the one who came as Jim Holt that his credibility suffered from the sombrero.And the one who came as Jerry Falwell sure looked gay. Not as gay as the one who came as Tom Cruise, but gay. (Don’t ask me how someone can “look” gay. I don’t know.)
The one dressed as Gov. Huckabee said he didn’t need my stinking candy, he could get all the candy he wanted the next time he and his leetle friend blue-steel revolver robbed a 7-11 to coffer up the presidential campaign.
The one in the Hastert mask said for an extra peanut pattie he and the entire Republican congressional leadership would play dumb if I ever molested anybody.
When I went to restock my treat tray, the one costumed as Mrs. Jim Bob Duggar had a child there on my stoop.
The one in the Rumsfeld mask said some things I couldn’t make heads or tails of, or hide or hair of, but he sure was scary.
The one dressed as the pope goosestepped up the front walk, which I found more be- than a- musing.
The one who came as Jimmy Carter wanted to get started then and there building me a house. He always was a weird one. Guess I’ll use it as a smokehouse.
After I told the one in the Limbaugh mask that I wouldn’t swap out some pain pills for the Reese’s Pieces, he made fun of my affliction.
The one in the Al Gore mask said it sure was warm out for a night in October.
The one who came as Paula Jones sure was popping that gum.
The one in the Condoleezza Rice mask kept jumping out from behind the front shrubbery shouting “Surprise visit! I’m here for another surprise visit!” Maybe you can make sense of that; I couldn’t.
The one in the Mel Gibson mask said my kind were responsible for all wars, including the one on Christmas, and for drinking the blood of children, and for his alcoholism that makes him say the stupidest things, and for hogging all the good rooms at rehab. “But thash OK,” he said.
The one who came as Bill Bennett or a whale with a gambling problem wanted to shoot dice for an extra Oreo.
The three who came as the Weird Sisters — I think they were Coulter, Harris, and Barbara Bush — rode off on real brooms. How’d they do that?
The two in the Madonna and Angelina costumes tried to adopt me.
The one dressed as Houston Nutt jumped up on the stoop and started leading cheers.
The one in the Bill Clinton mask tried to explain to me what the definition of is is.
After the one in the Arnold Schwarzenegger mask got his dole, he said “Hasta la vista, Baby” and “I’ll be back” as if that was supposed to mean something to me.
Someone came in a Newt Gingrich mask and I just ran the son-of-a-bitch off.
Someone came as an astonished Down Under zombie wearing a rubber sting ray, and I’m not sure what that was all about.
I’ve still got the one who showed up in the Sean Hannity mask chained up in my storm cellar. I mean, I know Halloween is about scaring people with vile and disgusting characterizations, but this was just taking the thing too far. That Colmes sidekick of his was freaky enough.
Bob Lancaster, one of the Arkansas Times longest and most valued contributors, retired from writing his column last week. We’ll miss his his contributions mightily. Look out, in the weeks to come, for a look back at some of his greatest hits. In the meantime, here's a good place to start.
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