Broke-Ass Halloween Post Mortem: The Night Fairy, the Chicken, and Cookie Monster (kind of)

First, a zillion apologies for the dead air! Broke-Ass has been working her tukhus off on paying work–which is fan-freaking-tastic, since ConEd was about to render the Rancho lightless–but she could cry at these lovely, plaintive messages. Broke-Ass missed you, too, babydolls.

Second, a zillion thanks to all the dear, dear peeps who wrote in concerned that Baby Poodle might not get the Halloween costume she so desperately wanted. Baby Poodle’s father–Great Dad–came to the financial rescue. He took Baby Poodle costume shopping at Party City, from where Broke-Ass received a call from Baby Poodle saying that she had changed her mind at the store and now wanted to go as Cookie Monster–just to let me know.

Cookie Monster. Babydolls, when Broke-Ass heard these words crackling in via her earpiece above the din of the foul-mouthed store clerks and screeching toddlers in the background, you could have stuffed an orca in her blowhole. “But I thought you wanted to go as that Selena Gomez character from the Witches of Waverly Place!” Broke-Ass bleated in shrill, stunned tones. “Weeellll,” came Baby Poodle’s Diplomatic Voice from the other end of the line. “I did…but now I really want to go as Cookie Monster.”

Well, Broke-Ass was astonished but acquiescent nonetheless. Maybe Baby Poodle was experiencing a little sense of reversion–wanting to snuggle into the preschool Halloween days, back when everyone went as something soft and furry. Sweet Baby Poodle. “Okay, honey,” said Broke-Ass. “You should get whatever you want.”

Cut to: Halloween afternoon. Baby Poodle went upstairs to her room change into her costume, while Little Mousie was draping herself with sparkly, feathery gee-gaws and donning her blue wig to realize her mental picture of what a “Night Fairy” looked like. Whatever that picture was, it was awesome.

Two Lumps of Sugar had rebelled against the bumble bee get-up because Big Daddy had accidentally picked the wrong size, and even though Two Lumps looked like mouth-watering little crumpet stuffed into that bee costume, it really was way too small–you couldn’t blame him for screeching and bucking, even though it was a rawther dramatic display. So, he went in a hand-me-down chicken costume instead. No words.

Down came Baby Poodle. Dressed in a blue furry mini halter dress with blue furry leggings and a little headband to which two ear-like “cookies” were attached. It was like something out of Avenue Q: Cookie Monster as an off-strip Reno cocktail waitress. Again, with the orca. Baby Poodle grinned. “Do you like my costume?” Broke-Ass gulped. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, baby–I do like your costume.”

It was maybe the best Halloween yet.

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About brokeassgrouch

I'm goddamned broke and grouchy. I live in the middle of the damned ghetto and raise chickens for eggs; grow all my own vegetables and fruit; bake the bread and make the cleaning products. Why? Because I fucking have to, that's why! That's what you do when you're fucking poor! You have to make the shit yourself, dumb-ass! Broke-Ass Grouch is sick of all you Bennington and RISD trustafarians yapping about your "urban farming co-ops" and your "carbon conscious lifestyle" and your "green choices" in the Times Styles section and every alternapress periodical that you can pick up for free in every eye-wateringly expensive, edgy bakery or green-market. Maybe when you have a trust fund, you can make "choices" or have a "lifestyle" or "decide" how to "spend" your "money." Excuse me, but Mama is just trying to feed her kids over here, you little shits. And stop spraying your art-school graffiti on the fence of the vacant lot across the street from my house. I know who you are, and I'm telling my friend Keith (who lives in the projects) that it was you who painted that cartoon of the African mask. So what can I tell you? I don't fucking know. I know a lot about being broke, sure as Bob's your fucking uncle. I know about how useless an Ivy League degree is when you're flat-ass broke. I know how to unclog a drain with baking soda and vinegar, and I know how to make my own CHEESE, for fuck's sake. You tell me.
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2 Responses to Broke-Ass Halloween Post Mortem: The Night Fairy, the Chicken, and Cookie Monster (kind of)

  1. Sarah says:

    Hilarious! The previous Halloween costume story killed me. So glad to hear how it all turned out. Thanks for telling us.

  2. glad to meet the grouchy says:

    lovely! so good to read! thank you.

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