I bought a small bag of candy corn last night. Why, you may ask? Gather round, my kittens, and let me tell you a story that has been passed on for generations. It is the story of Bob, the Candy Corn Demon. (Technically, I made this story up about 10 years ago. ONE DAY, however, it will be passed on from generation to generation, damnit.)

Many moons ago, I lived in Midland (small West Texas town) and worked in Odessa (neighboring small West Texas town). It was a long, ugly 30-minute drive with nothing to do but listen to the radio. One afternoon, on the drive back home, I was futzing with the channels (trust me, there is a serious derth of good music out West Texas way) and I happened upon a preacher named Bob Larson. For those of you who haven’t heard of this wack job, Google him. Go ahead. I’ll wait.

Back? Pretty scary, eh? To call him insane it to a disservice to the fine people locked up in asylums everywhere. This man actually said dinosaurs never existed. He insisted alien encounters were actually schemes of the devil and people were meeting demons. He had exorcisms on a weekly basis. Funny, though. All the demons sounded the same and sometimes, the demon would jump his lines ahead of Larson’s cues. You think the unholy would be up on the dramatic pause, but no go. It was like listening to a train wreck. With bad commentary.

Needless to say, this was hilarious shit and I was hooked.

So, we came up on Halloween season one year. Larson, being the good extreme zealot that he is, was winding up on the sheer evilness of this holiday. I was getting kinda bored because you could hear this sort of stuff in any pulpit anywhere.

Larson: My fellow servants in Christ, you should shun this so-called holiday. It is of the devil and an abomination before the Lord.
Me: Oh, yeah, yeah.
Larson: The costumes are evil.
Me: Umhmm
Larson: Trick or treating is evil.
Me: *yawns*
Larson: The parties are evil and full of inpure practices.
Me: *leans over to turn the channel* Okay, you’re boring me, Bobby boy.
Larson: Even, the CANDY IS EVIL!
Me: *stops and blinks*
Larson: Yes, listeners. Even the candy! And, this candy is eaten by your precious children. Their very souls are in danger because of this.

You ever hear something so stupid, so absolutely ludicrous, it just freezes your brain for a moment? There I sat, one hand on the wheel, one hand only millimeters from the radio knob, eyes on the road and my brain locked down. He didn’t just say…. candy? The fucking CANDY is evil? The next moment, my brain unlocked and I howled in laughter. I couldn’t help it. Tears ran down my face and my stomach hurt. In self-defense, my brain whirled out the scenario.

I mean, how does Satan, the big baddie himself, choose who haunts the candy? You’ve got pagan symbols, death, alcohol, parties and girls in little French maid costumes covered. Then, suddenly, your assistant whispers in your ear:

Assistant: Your Awfulness, you forgot the candy corn.
Satan: Hmm? What? Oh, yes. Candy corn. Ahhhhh…. *looks around* You! In the corner!
Bob: *looks up* Yes, your Unholiness?
Satan: What is your name?
Bob: Bob, sir.
Satan: Great. What do you do?
Bob: I’m the janitor.
Satan: Fantastic. See here, Bob. I’ve got everything covered for Halloween except the candy corn. Slight oversight, but nothing a fine demon such as yourself can’t handle.
Bob: Candy corn, sir? I don’t know… I….
Satan: *slapping Bob on the back* Great, great. I know you’ll do a fine job. Just check in with HR to fill out the necessary paperwork. Of you go. Good haunting and all.
Bob: *wanders downstairs* But, candy corn?

And, so the legend of Bob, the Candy Corn Demon, was born and I vowed to eat my weight in candy corn each October.

Because even demons like Bob the Janitor have families to feed, you know.

*bimbles off*

On my drive back from fetching Chik-fil-A nuggets and a fudge brownie last night, I spotted suspicious-looking lights in a neighbor’s yard. I slowed down and tried to decide if they were simply a series of abstract figures or indeed the snowmen I first thought I saw. They were too far away.

Tonight, an investigation on foot will commence. If they are indeed snowmen, they will be blasted to bits by morning. Because after being assaulted in all the stores with Halloween candy for two months AND Target already having a Christmas aisle, a person has to take the appropriate measures to preserve their sanity.

*bimbles off*

I’m officially another year older. Yay, me.

*sighs*

I’ve decided being suddenly unemployed severs some important circuits in your brain. Seriously. I haven’t been able to focus or complete more than one task maybe per day since last Friday. I mean, I just forget shit. I’ll be standing in the kitchen, thinking “I know there was something important I needed to do,” then, BOOM!, 10 hours later I remember I need to write down the numbers on my printer cartidges so I can get more. God forbid I try to remember to go to the store to get them.

Sidenote: The second thing to go after sudden unemployment, right after your brain, are your ink cartridges.

All I could manage to do last Friday was get online and file for unemployment. This only after prodding by Army of Mom and JS about time being of the essence with the Texas Workforce Commission. I think it took me nearly 1 1/2 hours to complete a simple form. After that, I couldn’t read one fucking paragraph on the insurance site AoM sent me to. I keep reading the first page over and over until somewhere in my brain, that little person said “For god’s sake, moron, stop. You aren’t getting anything accomplished.”

This is all very alien to me, by the way. I’m normally the organized one. The one who assesses the situation and proceeds to bend it to to my will. Always. I am solution-oriented, goddamnit. Now, I’ve been reduced to spending a whole afternoon getting insurance quotes because I cannot wrap my brain around premium comparisons. I just stare, owl-eyed, until somewhere, something catches on.

Did I mention I forgot to go to the dry cleaners? I actually got out of the house yesterday and managed to get to the cleaners and the store without incident. Or forgetting much. Just toilet paper. Nothing we needed or anything. Anyhoo, the cleaners was important because JS had run out of nice pants. He asked, “Could you pick them up tomorrow?” I replied, “No problemo. I’ve got the spare time.” Today after 5 p.m. That’s the when they would be ready. Apparently, at 5 p.m., I got dead-set on making tacos and forgot JS would be pantless until he arrived home around 5:45 p.m., earlier than he expected. He came back from the closet and said, “Um, where did you hang the pants?” I actually stood, spatula in hand, asking “What pants?”

I mean, what the fuck?

I’m assuming – okay, really hoping – this goes away like, say, after a week. After that, my normal brain returns and I’m not wandering around like an idiot savant thinking I might have left the gas on or something.

I think tomorrow… erm… later today, I’m going to the store, get the ingredients for a chocolate cake and make myself a chocolate-goddamned-cake. It’s my birthday and I want a 5-pound chocolate cake. I just hope JS doesn’t come home to find me sitting in the living room, mindlessly eating left-over icing, thinking I needed to do something and maybe it had something to do with ink. Or something.

*bimbles off*