Halloween

   Howdy, the name's Winston. Some of you fellows reading the words brought to you by the window browser may not know this, but today is February 19. And no, I did not buy Ruth a Valentine's gift. She bought it herself with the money she suspiciously collects on Sunday mornings. Today is the elder's Halloween. Although not always registered to the mind of others, there are two Halloweens in Oregon.

   The common Halloween for those punk kids is on October 31st, brrr. I get reminded of it every year. Ruth meets with her book club the last day of each month, I take advantage of those days by napping extra early after hiding her viola and vacuum. I was on my patched sofa when I heard my carved wooden door sounder being pressed upon in a badgering way. I open my door to see not one, not two, but SEVEN girl scouts on my porch. This time, it is not them selling dry cookies in exchange for currency, it is them awaiting for me to give them sweets for free, just because it is Halloween. I am usually with my pal, Myron during the end of the month to watch our plays, but he was getting a hip transplant. I managed to shake off a couple dozen of Ruth's butterscotches and almond joys from her fanny-pack.

 I am talking about the underdog Halloween in February. This is the Halloween in which us seniors do wild things, like staying up past 9:00 and drinking coffee. Ruth and Shinchina goes all in on buying clothing that is not on sale or watching television on a window browser website that goes to the name of "Netflix". It is a peculiar site. Today, Myron and I were going for a walk down by the river, when a van shows up. A man comes out of the van. He wore rather flashy clothing and walked with a sort of arrogance and bounce, Myron wanted a closer look in the inside of the van. As the man vanished into the Oregon forrest, Myron and I snuck into the large van. Inside was similar to the inside of a small home. There was extravagant accessories that Ruth would call "bling" all over the place.

When nature called, I used the blingy gentlemen's restroom. It was a home/automobile with a restroom, the toilet even flushed. I wonder where the product of my urination went after the water replaced it. At the sinking counter I came across a leather wallet, inside there was a picture of a woman with a rather large buttux with the name of Kim. The I.D was of a man named Kanye West, whoever that may be.

Love and Hate from the West,