Despite the pervasive Culture of Fear in which we all now
live, I have not heard the re-telling of any wild urban legends about doctored
Halloween treats. This is a shame as
this was a rite of passage for any child growing up in the days when news was
mainly transmitted via story on the school bus.
Where do eight-year olds get their information now? The Skimm?
What kind of upbringing is that? I
didn’t get photos of Kim Kardashian’s ass sent to a phone when I was 8. I had to make my buddy Alan my news
source. Granted, he didn’t diligently
vet his information or sources, but he really did have his ear to the
ground. Alan was the one that told me he
knew, for sure, about how Keith
Kunick’s running partner Steve had been horribly disfigured with a tainted
apple a few Halloweens ago.
The story went like this…
Keith and his buddy Steve were trick or treating. It wasn’t in this neighborhood. It was somewhere else. Just far enough away
that we didn’t know anyone there, but we had heard of it. That made the story legit. As a couple of teenage punks, Keith and Steve
put the bare minimum into their costumes.
This enabled them to walk the difficult tightrope of demonstrating to
others that they “didn’t care about this Halloween shit” despite the obvious
duality of going trick or treating in the first place. So, the story went that Keith and Steve went
to a house where someone was giving out apples, a real drag but better than getting
a dime. They talked some shit to the man
that was handing out the apples, and the guy was very deliberate in which ones
he handed the boys. The boys left the
house, and Steve reached into his pillowcase to retrieve the apple. As they walked along he took a big bite, and
quickly gargled in pain and fear.
The apple had been laced with a straight razor blade. Steve had ripped his entire mouth apart,
slicing a rip up his cheek exposing his molars.
Blood poured out of his face as he screamed, his words garbled as he had
sliced off part of his tongue. The boys
ran home where they were rushed to the hospital. Steve received countless stitches and was
left with a hideous scar on his face. His
speech was forever ruined by the tongue wound.
All the kids made fun of him in school, so his family moved away. That’s why I never met him. He was three years older than us. Ask Michael Johnson. His brother Victor was in his class. Alan was adamant of the truth and accuracy of
the story. It became a well known fact
in our school.
I absolutely love urban legends. At no time in any of these horror stories has
the victim been someone that can be directly identified. It’s a friend of my cousin, a kid the next
town over, or a guy my brother knows.
The victim is close enough for it to hit home, but never close enough to
verify the information. The best stories
have key details that lend an air of truth, yet when you dig in they don’t
really add up. Why didn’t the cops
arrest the guy who gave them the apple?
(They were so freaked out they couldn’t remember which house it was!) Why haven’t I heard this story from Keith
directly? (He doesn’t like to talk about
it man. Don’t bring it up. He’ll kick your ass.) Why haven’t my parents brought this up? (They are worried about panicking all the kids!)
I knew that story was probably a lie, just like the ones
about the cyanide in the Snickers, the poison in the apple cider and the pins
in the Milky Way. Still, I remember it
as clearly as I do any other legend like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. I know they are all bullshit, but they became
part of my memory. I will also tell you
this. I always look for a slit in an
apple before I take a bite. I'm not going to end up like that kid...
No comments:
Post a Comment