SPOOK SOFTLY AND CARRY A BIG PLUNGER -- The Halloween Lawn Goblin

Halloween.

The rural Baby Boomers amongst us remember those simple horrors of childhood trick or treating, when we made do with what we had, and had what we made.

Costumes were all home inventions, from front-zipping bunny suits to wire-stuffed cat's tails, hand-painted faces, pressed-cloth masks and pulp paper pumpkins. Treats were popcorn balls and taffy apples, brought to our neighbors’ front porch doors still stuck to wax-papered trays, and no one ever even dreamed of sugary sabotage.

My Dad once created a "Spaceman" costume for me that won first prize at the elementary school Halloween party, complete with a working periscope (I guess I went as an underwater spaceman).

Halloween Lawn Goblins, at least in these thar hills, also haven’t changed much since I was a kid. They remain steeped in tradition, and are composed of three inviolable rituals:

1. RAKING THE LEAVES:

It’s impossible to make a home lawn goblin without leaves, and leaf collection must be done with a rake. No fair using artificial batting for the innards, or a “leaf blower" for gathering leaves.

A leaf blower is a gasoline-powered, tubular-fired shoulder weapon meant for use outdoors, and is probably the most hapless tool ever perpetrated upon the home outdoorsman, with the electric lawnmower running a close second. Show me a man who's never sliced through his electric lawnmower's power cord, and I'll show you a man who's never used his electric lawnmower.

I once saw a neighbor equipped with a leaf blower attempting to swirl his leaves into submission, snaking a demarcated line of the fallen foliage across his yard, moving his industrial blow-hose in smooth, precise, lateral sweeps. One good gust of wind later, as the flying leaves all returned to their point of origin, it was like watching someone chase his hat with a vaulting pole.

Halloween leaves must be hand-raked into piles big enough to hide a minimum of four toddlers, one Dad, and a manic mutt. With them properly sculpted, you then move on to:

2. STUFFING YOUR GOBLIN:

Okay, you’ve made the leaf mountain and teased the dog into his annual pouncing mania by crawling deep inside the pile and growling back at him. Now it’s time to stuff the goblin.

You must home-appropriate goblin attire. No ready-made costumes. Any articles of clothing that have missed the last three washing machine rotations are fair game. Greasy bib overalls and threadbare sweatshirts are preferable.

Before stuffing, securely fasten the hand and foot cuffholes with a staplegun. Trust me.

Begin stuffing the clothing with your hard-earned (raked) pile of leavings. Be mindful of the gap potential that may later threaten your goblin’s anatomy due to organic compression and fabric stretch. Thus, when you think you’ve overstuffed? Stuff a little more. If the finished product resembles a cross between the Pillsbury Doughboy and The Incredible Hulk, and if the dog goes into another pouncing jag whenever you move it -- you’ve arrived.

Secure the shirtwaist inside the overalls with a staplegun. See? I told you so.

3. HOME GOBLIN ACCESSORIES & DISPLAY:

Your goblin’s head must be a real pumpkin. Period. Drawing its facial features with a magic marker is permitted, but anything less than a cut-out kisser with the requisite alternating snaggy teeth is considered amateurish, and will generate scoffs from your pumpkin-carving purist neighbors.

Goblin head and body now connected (you’re on your own with this) you may add the traditional accessories: an upraised pitchfork, hatchet or weedwhacker, a jousting lawn torch, asbestos gauntlets, rubber boots and/or snowshoes, a straw hat, rusty shotgun, knee-pads, canoe paddle or ski pole crutches, and my favorite: a plumber’s helper placed in one of the stapled asbestos gloves, poised to beckon, not unplug.

Lastly, you must position your home goblin for its optimal shudder factor. Have it straddling your mailbox, noosely hung from a second story gable, impaled on the rose arbor, or again, my favorite: emerging from a backyard bathtub, where you can hide beneath your monster for optimum shock value, terrifying any young pranksters who come thither. This is the mark of a true impresario among home lawn goblineers.

Now, go ahead, take the plunger and spook softly.

Happy Halloween, all.

Copyright 2006 B. Elwin Sherman. All rights reserved.