With a little practice, we learned to grow dead things in our yard.

It's amayzing how much more candy you get when you have a light on your head.

Or, in the case of the robot, four lights on my head, and one behind the little white sign that said "insert candy here." The other kids were so amused by the sign (which lit up when I pushed a button) that they were giving me their candy just to see it work. I felt terribly guilty (years later).

Apparently, I still haven't grown out of the costume phase. A couple of years ago, I made this costume, which caused more confusion than anything else. When I made it, I thought it would be so obvious as to be tacky. The problem was quite the opposite. Most people had no idea what I was supposed to be.

I took it to a Halloween costume contest--reputed to have the best prizes in town. It was held in a seedy bar with a ceiling so low I had to stoop through most of the place. All night, people were asking me what I was supposed to be. Finally, one guy came up to me and said "Wow, dude! All this time, I thought you were a total asshole for having that guy carry you around all night. That's pretty cool." Yes, he finally got it: there's just one of me, not two. I won first place, but the prize was over rated. What was supposed to be a $1000 prize turned out to be a voucher for a couple of nights in a hotel in Mexico--if you could get yourself there.

But, I figured I could take my wares to a more reputable place and clean up, so I went to another contest held at the local El Torito. Unfortunately, I hadn't learned my lesson--drunk people just don't get it. Naturally, the prize went to the woman dressed as a viking, with the motorized tassels spinning from her nipples. I can appriciate that. I.. we.. me and my costume.. danced with her and her cute friend (real friend) most of the night. And when the night was over, I dropped myself onto a barstool and started taking off that guy who had been sewn to my butt all night.

She was stunned.

She had thought, through a whole night's dancing, that there were two of us.

I give up.

Brandyn Webb / brandyn@sifter.org