100 Word Stories - I Hate Halloween, Version 2* (Repost from Facebook, 30 October 2009)

Every high schooler has their after-school job to earn money. I’m a little different. Mine’s before school. I’m a paperboy. Every day, 365 days a year, I’m up at O-Dark-Thirty in the morning, treading the dark and lonely streets. I don’t mind the hours or the back-breaking weight of Sunday editions: I’m a Zombie. Things like that don’t bother loathsome undead like me. That’s right: I’m a Teenage Zombie Paperboy. Do you know what sucks most about being a Teenage Zombie Paperboy? Halloween. Do you know how often I’ve been stopped by police for Trick-or-Treating too late on November 1st?

This was written for Weekly Challenge #184 from the 100 Word Stories Podcast. I ended up having two similar, but slightly different stories come out, so I wrote and submitted both.

*Again, I actually love Halloween. This was just the title.

100 Word Stories - I Hate Halloween, Version 1* (Repost from Facebook, 30 October 2009)

It’s the same nonsense every year. And it goes for almost two weeks. It’s not the Trick-or-Treating or the costumes, or any of that. No - what I hate are the lame jokes. I hear the same ones every year. You see, I’m a Zombie. The townsfolk are well-past their pitchfork fetishes, and the rest of the year it’s fine. But every year, from about October 24th, until around November 7th, it’s “Aren’t you a little early?” “Weren’t you a Zombie last year?” “Trick-or-Treating’s over, son.” Next year, I’m going to eat anyone who asks me something stupid. There’s your “Trick-or-Treat.”

This was written for Weekly Challenge #184 from the 100 Word Stories Podcast. I ended up having two similar, but slightly different stories come out, so I wrote and submitted both.

*I actually love Halloween. This was just the title.

I think I'm sick

Unfortunately, I've always suspected. After all, if I am, it's mental, in which case, I'm pretty sure almost anyone who knows me would have thought it was pretty much a given.
The saddest part is that I only just realized it. In the last hour, I mean. But I've had the warning signs right there in front of my face for many months. Literally in front of my face. On the computer screen. Now, in my defense, the symptoms were dormant for all the time I didn't have a computer at home. But now that I've re-connected, and now that I've seen the signs, I don't know if I'll be able to deny the truth any longer.
Here's the situation: a little over a year ago, I "discovered" MySpace for the first time, and created a profile about my wife and me (http://www.myspace.com/trishandjay). I thought how fun it would be to connect/reconnect with new friends, old friends, all that silliness, y'know? I had seen the profiles with dozens and hundreds of friends, thousands and tens of thousands of profile views. My first foray into the waters was promising: I had a couple of initial hits and got a nice note from another member who had liked what I'd posted in a comedy forum. Our profile sat dormant for a while until we got wired here at home. Then I started looking around more, doing more searches for old classmates, even making friends with a co-worker.
Now, I know we don't spend enough time online, specifically not enough time on MySpace to really have the kind of network others have, but it was only after looking around a little today that I realized that, for some reason, I was thinking that I was cooler than I was in high school! I went to a small school. Small enough that, for those people, I will never outlive that reputation. And even though my wife went to a much larger school, and had a more realistic outlook on who she wants to be connected with now, she just isn't into the internet thing enough to have spent more than a little time looking around. And I've got no problems with who I am, and where I fit into the world now. I know that who people thought I was in high school is not true, nor is it who I am now. Pretty healthy, I'd say.
Here's where the sickness comes in: even though I now know not to expect anything unrealistic, I can't stop checking the profile!
Like I said, I think I'm sick. And even though I am posting personal revelations, and self-diagnosing my own psychoses, this is not a blog!