The Birth of Halloween

466 words

The Birth of Halloween

The boss gnawed the sloppy end of his cigar and grunted at the executives sitting around the conference table, “This is the most successful marketing firm in the country, and we can’t fail! We must come up with a holiday for October, to get people warmed up for Thanksgiving and Christmas. October needs the revenue. We need a reason for people to spend money. So think!”

Feverish worrying enveloped the room. The executives constantly feared for their jobs. They were spooked by their boss’ moods, and haunted by the thought of unemployment. And this sounded like an important assignment. Sweat rolled from each of their foreheads, down their cheeks, and onto the table, where it formed dark pools that were eerily sanguineous against the blood-red wood.

Finally, Morgan had an idea. “This is the time of year when the ancient Gaels believed spirits could cross over from the dead,” he began, “Maybe we could promote ghosts, goblins and scary things.” The executives all nodded, hoping the boss would like the idea.

“That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard,” huffed the boss.

“Maybe we could sell costumes and masks, and tell kids they’re for warding off evil spirits,” suggested Parker. The executives nodded again, hopefully.

“No, no, no!” the boss snapped. “That’s worse. What’s wrong with you guys?”

“How about we cast livestock into bonfires!” blurted Wojo. Everyone stared at him.

Bigsby pulled out a candy bar and started munching. “I have an idea,” he said, “Kids can go from door to door and ask for candy. If they don’t get it, they can play a prank.” The executives, not wanting to look like fools, all grimaced with disapproval.

“Brilliant!” exclaimed the boss. “But what should the kids say at the door when they ask for the candy, and threaten with the high jinx?”

“Milk Duds or mischief!” mentioned Morgan.

“No good,” said the boss.

“Pranks or peppermint!” Parker piped.

“Nope.”

“Simon or Garfunkle!” added Wojo. Everyone stared at him.

Bigsby had another idea. “How about Trick or Treat!” he said with enthusiasm.

“That’s the craziest, most idiotic thing to ever come from an executive. You’re fired! Now get out and take your candy and that ridiculous Batman costume with you!”

Bigsby ran from the room. The boss surveyed the remaining executives. He could see the shock on their faces, and he could smell the fear on their breath. He could also feel the tension in the room, and taste the acrid sweat in the air. He had used four of his five senses, so he listened. That’s all five, he thought. The executives obviously needed reassurance.

“Bigsby’s ideas were hollow,” he said, "And besides, he was a weenie.”

“You mean - " Parker started to say, almost in disbelief.

“Yes,” the boss interrupted, “He was a hollow-weenie.”