It was quite a crowd that had gathered out front of the house. I took it as a sign that pandemic or no pandemic, give the kids some good wholesome Halloween fun and they would turn out in droves.
I was upstairs in the home office, looking down on the throng from the open window.
“Moms and dads, let’s try to keep the little ones under control, okay?” I yelled. “Six feet between groups, please. Don’t worry, you’ll all get a turn. Keep those masks on, now.”
I was stacking my supply of candy based on weight and size, when Terri walked in.
“Honey, did you hear that noise a minute ago? It sounded like a massive spring-action catapult.”
“Could you be more specific?” I asked, not looking up from a pile of full-sized Snickers bars.
Terri went quiet for a second, then said, “Oh, good heavens, what is that…that thing?” There was alarm in her voice, and more than a little fear.
“Is it from an oil rig or something? You’re not going to try fracking in the backyard again, I hope,” she said.
“No, we agreed I’d give that up. And actually, this is even better,” I said, going over to the metal contraption. “This baby is called the Fireballer. I picked it up from that indoor baseball place over on Simpson. They were putting in some newfangled models, and trashing this. Imagine, just throwing it out.”
Terri looked at the FireBaller and then went to the window. Her steps were tentative, like she was worried about being spotted. It was too late.
“Hey, Terri…come on send down some candy,” someone yelled.
She gave a little half-hearted, two-finger wave and stepped back.
“Please no,” she said. “Tell me you’re not using this rusted out mechanical arm to throw candy at those people.”
“To them, honey, we’re throwing candy to them,” I said. “I just need to make a small adjustment and we’ll be all set. The first one landed over on the Morton’s roof. Never would have guessed a Milky Way could carry that far in the air.”
Terri was looking at the Fireballer and shaking her head. “I don’t know…I mean, it seems so…so primitive. It doesn’t seems safe. It’s just a tangle of metal poles, and springs.”
I squirted a little WD-40 on one of the joints of the FireBaller and made a few minor adjustments to some cables. I checked the heavy duty extension cord. It was blistering hot. That didn’t strike me as a good sign.
Outside, the crowd grew restless and surly.
“Come on,” a woman yelled. “How long does it take to fix that stupid thing? Couldn’t you just do a candy chute like everyone else?”
“Yeah,” someone else yelled. “What’s the big deal? So the other candy landed on a roof, a bird will get it.”
“Honey, this might not be such a good idea,” Terri said. “There are a lot of people out there, and this thing seems a little wobbly and unsteady. Someone could get hurt.”
“Now come on, life is full of risks big and small,” I said.
After all, it was Halloween 2020 in the midst of a pandemic. There were risks everywhere. Slinging candy to a crowd was surely low on the list. We were all set to go and I went to the widow to whip up the enthusiasm.
“Okay, we’re all set for some fun, folks. Remember, you can’t spell Halloween without F-U-N, fun.”
“Yes you can, you moron,” someone yelled.
It was her again, and now she was getting a few laughs. If this kept up she would steal the show. Luckily, she was at the front of the line with her kid. I’d get her some candy and they would be on their way.
“Okay, son,” I yelled to her poor child. “Your turn. What are you anyway?”
“A dinosaur,” a little voice yelled.
“Great, cute costume. I would have never guessed. And mom, maybe we can get you to back away a bit. Let’s give T-Rex some room to work,” I said.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she yelled back. “I’ve been standing out her forever.”
Mom was clearly overwrought with the whole pandemic trick-or-treating thing, or possibly inebriated. Either way, she was clearly in need of a lesson on boundaries.
“Let’s give Dino some space,” I yelled. “Got to cut the umbilical cord sometime. Let the little bird fly.”
“He’s only four.”
“And walking independently, would you look at that. Now just back away, okay, mom? It’s his night.”
“Let’s go,” she yelled “The pandemic’s going to be over by the time he gets his stupid candy.”
I shrugged and glanced at Terri. She had the look of someone who wished she had gone out for the night.
I went to the Fireballer and grabbed a full-sized Snickers bar, and loaded it in the mechanical hand. I lined up my little friend the dinosaur in the scope, and sure enough there was mom, on him like an appendage.
“Honey, this doesn’t feel right,” Terri said, watching me tinker with the controls.
“Good wholesome fun rarely does,” I said.
I punched the little red button with the icon of a flame on it. There was a slow grinding of metal on metal, a hissing sound, and a faint odor of something burning as the Fireballer squeaked to life. Then…
Thwack!!!!
The metal arm shot forward, whistling past my head like it was sending the Snickers bar into orbit. Terri jumped back and gasped, both hands over her mouth. “Oh, no.”
There was a moment of stillness before the tragedy actually occurred. It was quickly broken by a scream, really more of a shriek of pain.
“Owwwwwwww.”
That was followed closely by, “Mom, are you okay?”
I glanced at Terri. She looked at me and ran from the office, her feet pounding down the stairs. The back door open and slammed shut and in a flash she was gone, exhibiting a quick first step, mental clarity and good old common sense.
Down on the sidewalk the voices mixed together.
“Did you see that? It bounced off her head.”
“Is he insane?”
“Do it again.”
I waited a bit then made my way to the window, leaned out and said, “How we doin’ down there? Everybody okay?”
The crowd had scattered, except for one guy with a catcher’s mitt.
He pounded the mitt and asked, “That all you got, pal?”