Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," rest stop for deities amidst the hectic turnpike of modern life! Take a break, stay awake! We can find you an amiable traveling companion.
My three or four regular readers will recall that I have recently begun teaching school full-time, and I don't have a teaching certificate. Hence, once a week I have to go to a little Catholic high school in Gloucester City, New Jersey and take "alternate route" teaching classes.
The classes are taught (if you can call it that) by a puffed-up sack of hot air I'll call "Mr. Bigwand." Go ahead. Unscramble the letters. If his wand was as big as his self-opinion, he'd need to drag it around in a wheelbarrow like The Dagda.
I've never seen anyone who could digress with more frequency and at greater length than this guy. He missed his calling. He should have been an Episcopal pastor. (One of his digressions last night was to say he had studied for the cloth. Would that he had kept at it!)
Last night, in one of his digressions, Bigwand made a boast that chilled my soul.
According to Bigwand, every year he buys a new frightening Halloween mask from an expensive, theatrical-grade costume company. He uses it to scare away little kids who trick-or-treat. He bragged that he never has to give away any candy, because when kids come to his door they are so transported by terror that they run off into the night. With glee he described how one little tot became paralyzed with fear -- all the kid could do was stand there, as a single tear rolled down his little cheek.
Even if I was not a Pagan who takes Halloween seriously, I would be furious about this. What kind of pustule on the buttocks of American society brags about scaring little kids to a bunch of people who are TEACHING LITTLE KIDS? Half the class consists of people working in the elementary grades.
Never mind the audience. What kind of hemorrhoid on the butthole of society would take perverse pleasure in scaring little kids on a holiday where kids ought to be happy and having a good time?
That's a rhetorical question. But it still has an answer, and the answer is MR. BIGWAND.
I cannot call this man out. He holds my future in his hands. If he says I didn't do the classwork, or some such, I won't get my certificate.
But I have a long memory. I also have his email. He will not remember my name two days after the class ends.
I'm not a vengeful person by nature, but the thought of some kid having Halloween ruined, perhaps forever, by a big, tall-ass bully just boils the blood in my veins!
Bigwand, it's not a good idea to anger the Cailleach in the front row. She will level the playing field on behalf of every little kid you have ever scared on the Holy Night of Halloween!