Two Jacks. Or, No way, Jose!

by Claire Twisselman

Call me a grinchess: I don't care! Most of the people I love the most live for Halloween. I don't. Straight up. In fact, it's pretty basic: I hate it. Sure, I've had some fun times. But, seriously, as I've gotten older, rampant costuming and no-mystery ghoulish behavior makes me make a "that smells" face. And part of my scowl comes from everybody being an asshole, insisting on my participation. I don't dress up. Stop poking my ribs, jerks! Do you want me to wear nothing? To get drunk and make out with my best friend? No thanks. And I've worn fishnets. Hell, I've even made out with my best friend. But, you know what? The best thing about Halloween is the pumpkins—and the start of pumpkin pie season. So that's what I've done this year, and that's what I'll do tonight: make faces with a knife. Also, I'll watch The Shining on my uncle's ginormous television in his basement with the sound turned up way loud. Yup: I'll be avoiding the doorbell.

[Later I might whip my own cream for a slice of my aunt's perfect vegan pie. Click that image above for a similar recipe I found, looking for a picture since I left my camera in my friend's back seat last weekend.]