Did you partake in ghoulish delights over the weekend? Maybe a haunted corn maze, or perhaps a Frightened Felons escapade?

Who, me? Um, no, thank you. I prefer not to be scared. It’s best for us all, really.

I remember one year, in particular, my cousins were visiting for Halloween. We were at my grandparents when an aunt called to invite us all over to her friend’s house. She thought it would be fun.

Sure, fun like a root canal, maybe. 

Their whole front yard had been turned into a graveyard. Not only did you have to hike up a hill and wind your way through tombstones, but you had to hazard the undead, too. 

The promise of chocolate did not even begin to lure me from the safety of that old, blue, Chevy Malibu wagon. Of course, the undead can smell fear a mile away. Before I knew it, they were lumbering down the hill, arms outstretched, crazed eyes targeted on our car. 

Now, I was old enough to know better. In my mind I was quite aware they were my aunt’s friends, dressed for Halloween; my imagination, on the other hand, knew they could just as easily be fantastical creatures ready ready to suck the life from our very bodies. In which case, you can never be too prepared. So I started screaming. They shambled faster. When a zombie stuck his head in the door, I came completely unhinged, throwing myself back in the seat, and mashing my poor little cousin’s face against the car window–the other side of which, leered a werewolf.

I’ll tell you now, I love you and all, but if zombies do take over the world, it’s every man for himself.  

If you can’t imagine, just think of that episode where Ellen scared her writer . . .

Sure, even I chuckle when I watch the clip; but it’s more nervous laughter. It’s really not that funny.

Interestingly enough, we’re both named Amy, we’re both writers, and we both tend to completely FREAK OUT.

Also, remind me never to go on the Ellen show. 

But I digress . . .

So without further ado, a Happy Halloween to you, my friends–may it be frightfully fun, and not the least bit scary!