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Rated: ASR · Short Story · Holiday · #550949
Trick or treating with Holstein
We tossed a coin; Fred won. He got to be the front end of Old Dobbin, I was the proverbial horse's ass. He'd found the costume in a trunk in his attic. My mom thought that at fifteen we were a bit old for Trick or Treating, but to us the idea of clip-clopping around the neighborhood sounded like a gas. The year before we cut down a small tree, dressed in flannel shirts and dragged the carcass into everyone's house. That didn't go over too big with some of the people, so we thought we'd make amends.

It's dark by 5:30 on Halloween, but we did not want to go out when the little kids were on the street. We waited until seven and then descended Fred's stairs, or tried. Did you ever try to go down a flight of steps with your head forward and arms around a young man's waist? About halfway down, Fred stopped and commanded, "Cheryl, let go and stand up; we'll put it on when we get down."

Off we went. We'd done about half the street when I heard Fred mumble, "Willya look at that? Someone stole our idea." Bent over and encased in cloth, I could not see a thing, but I shouted, "Someone else going as a stallion?" "Nah, it's a cow, a black and white Holstein, I do believe. I want to see who it is." We crossed the street and I heard Fred call out, "Hey, neat outfit."

"MAWRRRR."

"He's got a rope around his neck. Maybe he'll join us." I wish Fred would have warned me that he was going to run. He almost ended up dragging the hind end of his horse. Whoever it was must have been close, for Fred's voice dropped.

"Who's under there? Want to join us?"

"MOOARRRRR."

It was stuffy inside my half of the costume, but I definitely caught a new, strong scent and could feel the presence of a partner at our side.

"Hey, take it easy, big fella, you almost knocked us down. Stop chewing your cud and come with us. I wanna hit Jimmy Spencer's house. Are you two of the football lineman? You're huge!" I didn't hear an answer.

We clambered up the three or four steps to the Spencer's and I heard Fred knock.

"TRICK OR TREAT AND WHINNY"

"MOOOOOAHHHH'

'What cute costumes. Who is that? You sound like Freddie McCallister? Is that Cheryl in back, poor girl? Well come in, and bring whoever is under that fantastic cow outfit with you."

'OOOORRRRRR'

"We're having a party for Jimmy. I thought he invited you."

"He did, Mrs. Spencer, but we wanted to trick or treat first."

"I think I know who is going to win the badge for best costume. Miss Holstein, here."

I don’t know what happened, being buried in the back of the horse, but apparently our new friend gave Mrs. Spencer a buss on the cheek.

“Ooooooooh, you’ve got me all wet, you silly cow. I wish I knew who was under that fabric.”

I guess we went into the family room. I could hear the heavy footsteps of our new friend walking beside me. I heard Fred greeting the seven or eight kids there. Someone decided it might be fun to give the horse a slap on the rump. I did not appreciate that, but before matters could get out of hand, it was time to bob for apples. We took our costume apart. What a relief it was to stand up.

Elsinore, as I dubbed our mysterious companion, kept his or hers on. None of us had ever bobbed for apples before, and I must say we made kind of a mess. Ellie Freese, dressed as a clown, looked like she had taken a bath. Everyone wanted to see Elsinore try, but she did not seem to know what to do, so Fred led her over. She lowered her head and started to drink.

"Hey, he's drinking all the water."

Then the apples started to disappear, cores and all. CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH.

Elsinore rambled to a table which held a house plant. GULP.

Mrs. Spencer, rather agitated, said, "Fred, I think you oughta take your new friend home."

Fred grabbed the rope and tugged. Elsinore broke into a run, knocking over a table of snacks. She seemed to want to devour the ginger snaps, but I smacked her rump. Mr. Spencer was standing at the door handing out candy to other children when he heard the express coming. A grimace spread over his face. He pressed everyone against the wall and through the opening went our new friend. Fred could not hold her; she galumphed down the block and into the Little League field. There she stood, her head to the ground. Fred had a grin on his face. "Maybe she ate too much candy."




© Copyright 2002 David J IS Death & Taxes (dlsheepdog at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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