I didn't want to go to Hallelujah Night! I wanted to celebrate Halloween! I wanted to take a family trip to a pumpkin patch to pick out a big-ass pumpkin and then take it home to give it a scary-faced makeover. Grrrr. I wanted to go trick-or-treating with my neighborhood friends and take my chances at getting kidnapped and finding razor blades in fun-sized candy bars. I was okay with that. I figured it would build character, if I survived. Ha! Pops wasn't having it, though. Under the guise of living saved and having fun, going to church on Halloween night was it.
For those of you clueless about the existence of Hallelujah Night, it is a church-sanctioned night of turn-up for Jesus that consists of pre-diabetic doses of candy, games, and, of course, a mini-sermon designed to "win" young souls for God. Sounds innocent, right? Right.
While growing up, I don't know how many times I was told that Halloween was Satan's day of all-out play or it was simply demonic. The term demonic was the catchall phrase for everything. The other one was "God said it, I believe it, and that settles it." Some family friends of mine had it worse than my siblings and I, though: they couldn't even watch The Smurfs! Damn!
Back in the day at Enterprise Elementary School in Dale City, VA, I dressed up as King Solomon. Exciting, right? I wore a bed sheet and a Burger King crown wrapped in aluminum foil and paraded around in it. I made it work minus the accompaniment of a harem of concubines. I really wanted to dress up as a superhero, though. My 'spidey senses' have stopped tingling ever since.
Honestly, my first time wearing a regular costume was last year at a party. I dressed up as X-Men's Beast. I'm talking blue face paint, blue wig, and fake arm hair. I did it up, y'all; so much that I won second place in the 'Best Costume' contest.
Take that. Take that. Mom and Dad!
No, seriously, I love y'all! I couldn't have asked for better parents.
On Monday, I'm going trick-or-treating with the neighborhood kids. Maybe.