11-6-08

Ever since I handed over the crown, my abilities have been diminishing

Last week I wrote extensively about my infatuation with scaring people, one of the most simple and fulfilling pleasures around. A few weeks ago my four-year-old son, scared me real good and the “scaring crown” was passed down to the next generation.
Wednesday evening, my neighbor’s parents had family and friends over for a haunted hay ride. Will, my neighbor, called on me and about four other friends to help him with the scaring duties.
The plan was for his father, Mr. David, to saddle up two horses and pull a wagon filled with hay, kids and parents through their farm. Mr. David was going to take them on a trip through the farm and down a stretch of dirt road that snaked through the woods. This is where the “ten-year-old” adult males came into the picture.
Will handed out masks and, while the hyper little race car drivers, monsters, cowboys and princesses weren’t looking, we piled into his pick-up.
The five of us drove down the trail and searched for large trees or deer paths to hide in. We all found our hiding spots and waited quietly for the sound of wagon wheels and hooves clip-clopping down the path.
I don’t know about the other guys, but anticipation was building inside of me like I did when I was a young boy plotting a good scare on my younger brother or sister.
My reminiscing was broken with the sound of children talking and horses working hard to keep the kids entertained.
All of a sudden, screaming began. They had reached the first “scare point.”
One of the guys had found a deer stand that wasn’t to high off of the ground. I couldn’t see what he was doing but I think that he jumped down after the horses went past and scared the kids in the back of the wagon.
When they finally reached my spot, they knew what was going on. They were sort of prepared and I think not as scared as I would have liked them to be.
I figured I better turn my game up a notch.
After the horses passed by, I ran out screaming at the top of my lungs in the deepest voice I could muster. My vocal cords were hurting and I was trying to get to the back of the wagon so I could grab one of the kids. The small holes in the skeleton mask were making it hard to see. So there I was, a skeleton trying to run with his hand on his chin to keep his face on and looking down at the ground every other step to keep from tripping. I am sure this sort of blew my cover a little bit. Finally, I reached the back of the wagon and a kid was in sight. I reached out and grabbed his yellow jacket. All the while I was moaning and screeching. The children around him started screaming and throwing hay at me. Thinking that I would really get them scared, I got a hold on the yellow-jacketed boy, Cole, and began to pull him from the back of the wagon.
WHACK! I was seeing stars.
“I did it,” yelled Cole, “I punched the skeleton in the face.”
All of the children started cheering and yelling.
After my nose stopped running and the birds in my head stopped chirping, I met up with my brothers-in-arms. They were laughing, not with me, but at me.
I am sure I would have been laughing too if I was the one watching it happen. I probably would have doubled over and lost my breath from laughing so hard with hiccups to ensue.
My game was obviously not turned up that “notch.” My head was hanging in shame.
If I knew that taking the proverbial crown off and passing it on to my son would take all of my powers away, I would have never acknowledged the fact that he scared me a few weeks ago.
My tactics need to be re-thought. Someone is going to get it, just you wait. I can’t go out like that!
Bryan Pinkey can be reached plotting his revenge in a dark basement or at bpinkey@nccox.com.