Awkward Halloween: Skin-Heads Attack

Unsurprisingly, I was a weird kid.  I loved writing stories, which seems pretty normal, but all of my stories would end with the characters dying in some totally gruesome way.  I once wrote a chapter book where each chapter ended with a death and an illustration of the death, to make it even more disturbing.  One chapter concluded with a man being eaten alive by fire ants, another with an entire family burning alive in their home.  Four to nine was my dark period.

One Halloween, right after my family had moved from downtown Chicago to the suburbs, my mother asked me what I'd like to dress up as.  I didn't really fit in in the suburbs and I think I'm starting to see why:  I told my mother I'd like my costume to be a "victim of a skin-head attack".  I don't remember how my mother responded, but amazingly she must have said yes because on Halloween I went to school dressed in a hospital robe with crutches and a bandaged head.  The teacher was undoubtedly upset by this; my classmates had no idea what a skin-head was and were therefore totally confused.  But I was happy.

After school I was walking home when some random woman, I'm assuming someone's mom, ran up to me and grabbed my backpack of my shoulder.

Random Mom:   Oh my God!  Let me help you!  Are you walking home?  Please, let me give you a ride.

I probably should have realized what was going on, but honestly I did not put two and two together.  (I also probably should have remembered that you don't get into cars with strangers...)  As I followed her to her car she tried to find a way to subtly ask me what had happened to me, but since I had no idea what she was talking about she wasn't having much luck.  I think she most likely assumed I was being abused at home.  Finally, as I was getting into her mini-van she blurted it out.

Random Mom:  What happened to your head?

Now let's pause for a moment.  I may have been being a little obtuse, but this woman was obviously a moron.  First off, it was HALLOWEEN.  Second off, even if my injuries were real, they would never send me to school IN A HOSPITAL GOWN.  Third off, well, maybe there isn't a third off, but I think just those two classify her as legally retarded.

Me:  It's part of my Halloween costume.  I'm dressed as a "victim of a skin-head attack."

Her mouth fell open so wide I could see her esophagus (whatever that is) and she threw my backpack on the ground.  Then she called me a name no mother should ever call a child (now that I think about it I have no proof she was a mother), forced me out of her mini-van and drove away.

That's why you never let an awkward child pick their own Halloween costume.