Here’s a spin on reverse-trick-or-treating that I got a kick out of. I grew up in a college town, and one Halloween our doorbell rang and we opened the door expecting to see trickortreaters— but what was in front of our open door—was another door! Like, a full-on wooden door, that had a sign that said “Please knock.” So we did, and the door swung open to reveal a bunch of college dudes dressed as really old grandmothers, curlers in their hair, etc, who proceeded to coo over our “costumes” and tell us we were “such cute trick or treaters!” One even pinched my cheek. Then THEY gave US candy, closed their door, picked it up and walked to the next house.
“She was one of those giant broad beamed Scandinavian giantess warrior women types; the fucking Russ Meyer buxotic women, you know what I mean: WOMEN with breasts and hips like we don’t have anymore. Oh my god what was that horrible- what is this god awful frightened 14 year old boy runaway cul-de-sac we’ve gone down in regards to women? These fucking shaky dog waif model Chihuahua girls with the visible heartbeat through the rib cage, that Lara Flynn Boyle: “If you fuck me I’ll tear!” I don’t want that! I don’t want to fuck a box kite! Jesus Christ! Starches! Finish my fries! She was huge and Nordic, she was a fucking Valkyrie and she began to construct my joint. SHE CONSTRUCTED MY JOINT. And to give you an idea of the care and concern and craftsmanship that went into my joint- it took her an entire song on the mixtape to roll it. Unfortunately you know what the song was? Queen’s We Are the Champions. I say unfortunately because as it was starting to play I was like, “Oh I wish this wasn’t happening because now this sounds a bullshit story!” But it really happened this way literally as she opened the paper and put the fucking weed on: I’VE PAID MY DUES TIME AFTER TIME! I’m like, “No! Not this song! This is turning into a Robert Zemeckis film!”—Patton Oswalt discusses purchasing weed at a pot cafe in Amsterdam (via bohemea)