Spooky Spokane streets and galactic treats: A tale of three musketeers
Triple toil, trouble and crushed popcorn ball rubble, it was nearly Halloween night. With Green Bluff cider in hand, three Spokane musketeers scanned wicked costume websites with devilish grins of delight. Faceless beasts brandished sinister beaks. Morbid clowns clutched menacing hatchets and scythes. Tapping and swiping, the trio howled along to a cryptic brew of monstrous tunes devouring each blood-curdling sight.
Allowances bled each musketeer had bred, his own terrifying set of threads. Those disguises a mishmash of heinous human mottled with splotches of the creepy undead. A nefarious jack-o’-lantern who wielded a demonic pitchfork which moaned. A hazmat zombie that carried his own decayed head and orange traffic cone. Leader, Darth Vader, in pitch black, complete with red lightsaber and home-crafted scuba breathing pack. Spiraling like licorice ropes down South Hill streets, the friends launched succulent attack.
With bags selected for utmost hold, they sampled grub on-the-go, spirit unslowed. The success of this sucrose-laced romp, now measured in caloric load. Tethered like wet Jolly Ranchers, the three sprinted across grassy green paths. Bushes and tiny fences nimbly jumped for maximum haul with minimum wrath. Ding-dong. Trick or treat. Sweet anticipation fueled that grueling feat. King-sized Hershey bars near 37th and Thor. Whoppers by Helena Street. Junior Mints at a haunted house with rattling chains and screams just west of Trickle Creek.
With snickers, they ogled towering skeletons, candy corny decor or costumes that were, oh so cool. An inflatable T. rex which aired up at Maverick. A gorilla who gassed and spewed fluorescent blue goo. A toilet that flushed on the northern side of Scott. A pair of emojis who belched and winked on cue. All across south Spokane, parking lots bubbled with pop culture heroes and foes. Spider-Man talked web fluid with Doc Ock near Target. Taylor Swift flashed 10 cubic zirconia carats of bling to Chappell Roan in front of Trader Joe’s. Batman and Robin even shared pepperoni pizza with the Joker just outside of Domino’s.
Arms aching, the musketeers paused briefly to explore that 100 grand assemblage of stock. M&Ms, Milky Ways, crumpled wrappers. Dubble Bubble gum chunks harder than poor Charlie Brown’s trick or treat rocks. Starburst, Reese’s, a half-eaten Tootsie Roll … even a pair of Skittles socks. Missing in action, one decayed head. The demonic pitchfork ditched somewhere near Poole’s. That orange traffic cone vanished as they attempted to dodge wild turkeys in back of Ferris High School.
Near 62nd and Moran, a cemetery shack beckoned from beside foggy road. Leaves swirled beneath ominous gray tombstones in the bitter cold breeze which blowed. With curiosity of Spokane Night Stalker, Darren McGavin, the trio made quick route to that tawdry abode. A porch cauldron simmered with paranormal Peeps. Gummy eyeballs squinted from above twiggy tree. A sign scribbled in shaky red letters warned: “Take Just One Piece and Flee!” Haughty and naughty with dark power, Lord Vader grabbed a handful of at least two or three.
His friends disappeared in a smoky flash!
Quicker than you can say “Death Star,” a warted witch emerged behind Vader’s back. “Be careful not to choke on your sugary aspirations,” she cackled, as her spindly butterfingers slipped pectin Ewoks into his candy sack. Caramel sap oozed from Milk Duds, porch stones clamping Vader’s feet to the ground. Scowling Sour Patch Kids fired jawbreakers at him from Mountain Bar cannons … chaos and confusion was all around. Ripping loose from that glop, he bolted toward a fence of feral Kit-Kats guarded by mystery Dum Dums high atop crazed coconut Mounds. An olive-hued critter quipped, “I am your father,” as Vader hyperspaced over them all in a single bound.
Fraught with terror, young Luke awoke.
“Come on, let’s go,” yelled his trick or treat comrades, shaking him back to life. “Talk about giving us a scare. You almost slept through Halloween night!” Hopping out of bed in a panic, Luke Skywalker trailed Han Solo and Chewbacca to an open door. A Rolo stuck to his foot midway, chilling him straight to the core. As the three musketeers exited that bedroom, an eerie red glow emanated into dark air. The faint sound of labored breathing could be heard from a Darth Vader mask perched against a window chair.