Monkey Snape

[Cambridge Dictionary] Halloween- the night of 31 October when children dress in special clothes and people try to frighten each other

[Sandy Baker’s Dictionary] Halloween- the most obnoxious night out of the 365 nights, when your friends chuck balls of wet toilet papers at the door of your house until you decide to open up and join their absurd gang of trick-or-treaters

Gregory pounds harder on the door, “Yoohooooooo? Trick or treat?”

Pointing the remote at our TV, Jeremy turns it louder, “Sandy would you PUH-LEASE just open the damn door and shut em up?”

Chewing on my Snickers loudly, I grab the remote from him and switch channels, “They’ll get tired eventually.”

Jeremy snatches the remote back, “Can’t you just get out of the house? You squirt.”

The noises outside stop all at once. No more poundings on the door. No more yoo-hoos.

Jeremy and I wait in silence. They’re gone.

I can’t help but snigger at Jeremy, “Told you they’ll get tired.”

And as if on cue, Gregory yells from outside, “WE'RE GONNA BLOW THIS PLAAAACE!” He gives a warrior cry, and there comes a series of soft thuds on the door, before the desperate poundings start again, “Open up! Oi!”

I grit my teeth at the air. That bampot.

Jeremy snorts from beside, “Really, what else are you good at besides being wrong all the time?”

Taking an angry bite at my chocolate bar and standing up, I give my brother a disdainful look, “Skinning monkeys, that’s what.”

Stomping to the door, I yank it open impatiently, and before I could even have the time to check out my friends’ costumes, I wave my half-eaten Snickers bar in the air, then chuck it far into the yard.

I clap in Gregory’s face, “Go on! Go get your treat, doggie! Go catch!”

With that, I slam the door close, the impact shaking our whole living room.

Jeremy jumps in his seat, “The hell, Sandy!”

I lean my back against the door, breathing out in relief. Well that ought to shoo them-

Wait…

What was that again?

Yanking the door open for the second time, I check out Gregory’s costume. Greasy black wig, an oversized robe, a FREAKIN wooden stick in one of his hand…

God, choke me.

I wince in disgust, “Professor Snape. How creative.”

A Maleficent leaps forward from the group of trick-or-treaters, “I know right!”

Adjusting his wig, Gregory nods at me, “Why thank you.”

I give him a sleepy look, “That wasn’t a compliment, you moron.”

Turning away my head, I take in my messy porch in horror, where mushy toilet papers still stick to the door and some are dangling from the shoe rack. Holy moustache what the HECK.

Walking out, I close the door behind me. “Clean these up, you animal.”

Gregory chucks a candy up into the air, catching it in his mouth, “Animals,” he corrects, gesturing at the other trick-or-treaters, who are mostly busy stuffing their mouths full with chocolate, not paying any attention to us.

Maleficent steps forth slowly, “Sandy, is this even a costume?”

I look down at my pyjamas, “Maybe.”

“Who’s this?”

I roll my eyes, “Sandy Baker.”

Gregory snorts, “She needs no costumes. Devil is her second nature.”

Stepping back a little, I study Gregory’s costumes disapprovingly, watching him as he divides the sweets among his gang.

Gee he looks stupid.

I burst out guffawing and Gregory turns to me, “What?”

Once a monkey, always a monkey. I reach out, pulling off his wig. He gapes at me helplessly.

I wave the wig in the air, laughing loudly, “God you look moronic,” I point at his flattened hair, while his glare heats up in anger.

Snatching the wig back, Gregory flicks the thing in my face, causing a few strands of the oily hair to hit my eye. Immediately, I jerk back, feeling the bitter sting in my eyes while the noises from the other trick-or-treaters die down.

My eyes in teary slits, I warn the monkey, “You don’t want me to curse you on a Halloween night.”

“Actually, I don’t give a shit.”

I don’t even have the time to strangle Gregory, because right after that, his monkey mode is suddenly on again. Pumping his fist in the air, Gregory hollers, “Launch the smelly socks!”

And like a troop of crazy barbarians, the others begin catapulting what I assume are socks towards my house. Where the hell do they magic out this many socks? And the monkey’s right, even at a distance, I could smell them. They reek like salty fish.

I stumble to the front, holding my hands out, “Stop it! I said stop it, you barbarians!”

The attack on my innocent house slows down, until I glare fully at the Frankenstein boy, who was the last one to stop. Reluctantly, I turn my body around, taking in my friends’ work of art, where the theme is smelly gym socks mushy toilet papers combo.

I stare at the walls of my house for a good minute, my body still as a brick. If my folks don’t kill me on the spot for that, they’re gonna murder me by this week.

I swallow the dirty words that are about to escape my mouth and focus my fiery glare onto the leader of this attack, who also happens to be a monkey.

“I’m giving you five minutes, monkey. Clean-

I freeze right to the spot, my sentence unfinished. Stiffly, I angle my head, and stare at the socks dangling from my neck.

Gregory whistles from afar, “Ooooooopsyyyy … think my hand slipped.”

Sometimes, it’s wiser to not pick a fight and make enemies. And sometimes, it’s better to just have a truce and save the bloody scene. But sometimes, you, JUST, HAVE, TO, TEACH, A, MON-KEY, HOW, TO, BE-HAVE, THE, PROPER, WAY.

Barely looking, I grab away the ball of socks in the hand of a nearby Dracula, and walking up to Gregory, I calmly smudge the smelly socks against his face.

This is gross.

I pulled away my hand, totally disgusted, and in an urge to get rid of the obnoxious socks, I remove Gregory’s greasy wig and slap the socks onto his flattened hair, before placing his wig back onto his head. All the while, he stays still, his eyes big and his body in a frozen state.

I rub my hands on his robe, hoping the nasty smell would go off, “Five minutes, monkey. I want the porch cleaned up.”

Not waiting for his reaction, I make my way back to my house, with the other trick-or-treaters looking at me in their own little weird way. Fishing out a Snickers bar from my pyjamas’ pocket, I hand it to Maleficent, “Happy Halloween.”