Bleeding Extremes


It wasn’t the first time that I was asked “what are you supposed to be?” on Halloween while sporting my day-to-day threads. I guess people think that if you don’t resemble anyone from the Sears catalogue, then you surely must be wearing a costume. Try telling that to my mom on Christmas Day when she’s rockin’ her best Christmas sweater. You know, the one with the Christmas kittens on it. She’ll swat you over the head with a stocking filled with batteries, razors, and disgusting amounts of teeth-rotting British chocolate if you try to harp on her Christmas attire!

I never did fit in from a style perspective anyway, so I wasn’t all that bothered when people didn’t quite see how a pair of chuck taylors, a spiked leather choker and bracelet, fishnets, and a Red plaid skirt could qualify as a “normal” every day outfit.

When I got home that afternoon, the kids were already out roaming the streets looking like little freaks on parade. There were little serial killers, miniature whores, devil worshippers, witches, and a plethora of K-Mart Koncoctions! Did I say koncoctions? I meant distractions! What were their parents thinking?!

I hurried into my flat to get my bowl of Tootsie Rolls out ready for the lil’ freaks coming to my door. Tootsie Rolls were nostalgic for me and always reminded me of Halloween. So I guess me handing them out was mildly selfish. I was just about to cross the street when I saw him standing on the corner dressed like a big fucking Red bleeding heart. His face was painted and he had an arrow sticking through his head.

I waved at him and kept walking.

“Hey… Wait. Aren’t you going to say hi?” he shouted as he awkwardly ran across the street holding his arrow head in place and using both hands to hold up his giant Red plush costume.

“Yeah… I waved didn’t I?!”

“I was just in the area” he said “What a surprise seeing you.”

I rolled my eyes “Well, it is my neighbourhood…”

“What are you doing right now?” he asked

“Handing out candies for Halloween.”

I knew if I asked him what he was doing in return it would take the conversation to a needy new stage 5 cloaker level. A level that I didn’t wish to go. A level that I wanted to avoid like the plague!

“Want some help handing out candies?” he asked

“No, I’m good.” I said

He stuck out his bottom lip, pouting like a child and stared depressingly down at his Red furry heart shoe covers. I sighed, knowing I would regret it…

“Okay, do you wanna come in for a bit then?” I asked.

His demeanor changed like a dog about to receive a bone, some scraps from under the dinner table, or upon hearing the words “wanna go for a walkie?” His ears perked up, a smile graced his face and he eagerly followed me into my flat.

Once inside he whipped out a bottle of champagne and two glasses (quite odd for an impromptu “chance” meeting on the corner I thought). He poured us each a glass of champagne and made a toast “to us”.

And that is where I stopped him.

“Look… I know that it wasn’t just a coincidence that you were standing on my street dressed like a giant bleeding heart. I know it wasn’t just coincidence that you happened to have two glasses and some champagne in your bag. I saw you at my gym last week too, and in my cafeteria at work at lunch… Your stalking is not going unnoticed, I assure you.”

He bit his bottom lip, turned away and started to cry. It got pretty hectic. Thankfully his blubbering was interrupted by some Trick or Treaters. I threw a handful of Tootsie Rolls into their bags and mouthed the words “HELP ME”! Unfortunately, they just ignored my cry for help and selfishly carried on to to the next house. They really couldn’t give less of a shit about the dire circumstances going on inside my flat.

I went back to my couch where he was now laying face down crying intensely like a child into a pillow! His body was convulsing and his breathing irregular, I was relieved that the pillow was deafening the pitch. I reached over to the table and grabbed my full glass of champagne, I swigged it back in two gigantic gulps, then grabbed the bottle and started swiggin’ that too.

“Look Gerry. I can’t help you okay. I’m sorry that you had a horrible childhood. I’m sorry that your parents live thousands of miles away and don’t call you on your birthday, and I’m sorry that your friends are all a bunch of coke-snorting queens who don’t give a shit about you. But really… What the fuck am I supposed to do? I can’t do anything. I just feel bad for you, and that’s all I can offer! Is that what you want? Have you taken your meds today?”

He looked up from the couch, he had big tear-streaked lines in his face and his face was now red and flesh striped. He looked a mess.
“OHHHHH FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” I shouted “Look at my sofa… You got Red face paint all over it. That is a $5000 couch!”

This caused him to burst out into a crying frenzy once again. I think he said something along the lines of “how can you say that to me when I did this all for you”… or something like that.


Again, more Trick or Treaters! THANK YOU LORD!!!

“Trick or Treat”

“Hi kids… How about a trick. I got time. Lemme see what you got!”

“Can we just have some candy?”

“Can I have a trick?”

The kids just stood there and looked at me like little oblivious creatures of the night. Their eyebrows raised as if to say “we’re not impressed” and their hands on their hips waiting for me to come to my senses. I think I even heard some crickets chirping.

“Fine, fuck here” I dumped handfuls of candy into each one of their bags. A mother shot me a dirty look so I shouted “like you’ve never said fuck in front of your kid before” as I was shutting the door.

Back to hell…

“Ummm look Gerry. I’m really sorry that your life sucks and that you’re so unhappy.”


“I just don’t know what you want from me… I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be like this, it’s just I can’t help you. I’m not a fucking saviour, I can barely handle my own life, let alone yours!! And frankly, my patience is wearing thin.”

He wiped his snot and tears off on the sleeve of his shirt and picked his big bleeding heart up off of my (once beige) couch.

“Well it’s obvious i’m not wanted” he snarled “I’ll just go then.”


He picked up his backpack from the floor and scurried towards my front door, but not before tripping over his gigantic Red heart shoe covers and falling face first to the floor, driving the arrow through his left eye causing it to bleed everywhere.

This would happen! I couldn’t let him leave like this. I picked him up off of the floor and escorted him to my couch. I grabbed him some ice, his glass of champagne and a roll of toilet paper for the bleeding.

“You can stay here tonight” I told him

“Are you sure?”
he asked.

“I’m sure. I wouldn’t have it any other way. “

He smiled at me forgivingly and we hugged for a minute before I hopped to my feet.

“Okay, so the candies are by the door. Help yourself to whatever you want in the fridge, and i’ll be back in a few hours.”

Before he had a chance to object, or cry, or retort, I was out the door… Leggin’ it down to the local bar to get myself a cold drink!

I never did vote Liberal again either…


12 thoughts on “Bleeding Extremes

  1. “I shouted “like you’ve never said fuck in front of your kid before”

    My wife was on the couch holding the baby tonight while I passed out candy and I have like this killer back problem. The doorbell would ring and I’d be like “FUCK!!” or “SHIT!!” while getting out of the chair and you’d see this innocent little kid in some cute costume with his or her face pressed up against the glass in the window. They could totally hear me. I met some nice parents. They scowled… it was fun.

    And to answer your question below on the other post, no we said inside tonight because it was wicked cold out tonight. Got down to like 55 at 6pm. brrrrrr!!! California in the fall. (lol)

    Dressed Elijah in a candy corn outfit. It was sweet. He’s got a cold or something… so he’s having a shitty night. I wish you could drop some Nyquill on him but he’s only three months old… That wouldn’t be a good thing.

  2. some lines of note:

    “I knew if I asked him what he was doing in return it would take the conversation to a needy new stage 5 cloaker level.”

    “I never did fit in from a style perspective anyway, so I wasn’t all that bothered when people didn’t quite see how a pair of chuck taylors, a spiked leather choker and bracelet, fishnets, and a Red plaid skirt could qualify as a “normal” every day outfit.”

    look, you know the whole point to the candy-giving process is buying the candy you like cuz you know you’re gonna scarf down at least half of it, anyway…and after you’ve gorged yourself on that last reese’s peanut butter cup (at 6:37 p.m.), you just turn off the porch lights, lock the door, and put on that boot-legged copy of It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown you got from that little seven year old hustler down the street, right?

    (am i revealing too much here…?)

    great piece, chica!

    be well

  3. Any guy who dresses up as a bleeding heart on halloween… moping around the neighbourhood…. and has erratic moods swings which makes him end up injuring himself needs some major help…

  4. When I was a college kid, I went to a Halloween party as Jesus. I made myself a bleeding crown of thorns from surgical tubing, some plastic garlands, and some fake blood. I even knocked together a 6′ cross made from 4x4s.

    It was a great costume, but the cross got in the way at the beer keg.

  5. I don’t quite know what it is about your style, but damn it’s utterly enticing. I look forward to every post.
    Stay cool,

  6. Steve: I have lost count of how many times I have inadvertantly said FUCK in front of the spawnettes… It just happens, and then when you realize it, you say “SHIT!”… And then at that point you just cover your mouth and leave the room thinking about what a horrible parent you are! 😉

    And dude… sorry, but it’s hard to feel sorry for you weather wise… YOU DO REMEMBER THAT I’M IN FUCKEN’ CANADA RIGHT?! 😛

    Chico: Diggin’ the avatar… Glad to see you using it 🙂 Ha ha! I know what you’re doing on Halloween at 7:01 when I knock on your door for some candy and no one’s coming to the door… Ohhh there’s no mistaking that Charlie Brown music or the “womp womp womp” parental voices! I can hear through front doors! The spawnettes will not take NO for an answer unfortunately… They’re stubborn like that, they demand candy from EVERY house, even if it ain’t bein’ handed out… And even if the owner is inside scarfing down what’s left while watching boot leg Charlie Brown! Fuck… I’m rambling.

    Izzy: How right you are! Here’s to hoping that none of us ever have to deal with someone that hectic (thanks Mion… you got me saying that word now).

    Poobah: You make me laugh. I read your comment and actually laughed out loud. You’re swell. And… I would love to see pictures if you have them!!

  7. TheNYD: THANK YOU!!!!! That is utterly amazing, of you… to say so! I am so happy that you dig my writing. As someone who is DESPERATELY trying to make it as a writer, you could pay me no higher compliment! I hope to have my words in print in bookstores everywhere in the very near future! Thank you for reading!

  8. I love corrupting you … muhahahahaha. Next thing you know you’ll be blaring the Euro and pop-tart’in’ out of bed.

    Be afraid, be very afraid !!! 🙂

  9. 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  10. Thanks Chico 🙂 It’s so you!

    Mion: I think it’s the other way around… Me corrupting you! And I will NEVER (read: NEVER) be blaring Euro! Bring me some soul freeing house music, some punk, some ska, some funk… But Euro…. HELL NO! You know that! But a valient effort! 😉

    Joe: Do I need a secret decoder? 😛

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