PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Years before, in my uncle’s hotel room, I scribble some lines to formulate the best piece of art that I had ever drawn, and clearly the best that anyone had ever seen. It was a creature that I had imagined each and every time that he told me the stories of the wallibeater, his own masterpiece of an invention. I drew the character over and over. Many times. followed by all his accessories. His medallion. His wallibeater glasses. His furniture. All of it was drawn out. None of my friends at home knew what I was talking about when I told them that the wallibeater was my favorite animal. They clearly just weren’t cool and imaginative like me. They were so missin’ out. Wallibeaters were so much fun!  I decided to dress as a wallibeater for Halloween that year, to honor my uncle, who I would send many pictures to later.

Apparently, I really was the only one who knew what a wallibeater looked like, so finding a costume at the costume shop proved to be rather difficult.

I found an old gopher costume that my brother’s friend had worn for a skit, and had my mother sew on a round maroon stomach patch- Barney style. My wallibeater still needed a giant gold medallion. It was Halloween time, so everything at every store ever was a bit different than you would have liked it. Oreo’s were stuffed with bright orange cream, and my medallion turned out to be a giant reflector with the face of a pumpkin on it, hanging on a shiny purple string around my neck. I looked so ridiculous that I couldn’t even go trick-or-treating with my friends because they didn’t want to be at my side as I attempted to explain my costume to all the families behind the doors in the neighborhood while I really was just begging for candy. I would have to explain what a wallibeater was, how my costume wasn’t really a good representation, and why the heck I wanted to dress up as one in the first place.

My brother took me around the neighborhood; he stood curbside as I went up to each house and waited for my return when he would continue to accompany me down the street as my bag slowly filled with more candy. About 20 minutes before we were going to call it quits, I reached a house that hosted one of my favorite stories of all time. We were in a neighborhood that neither of us knew, and we had no idea where we were. But it was Halloween, and I wanted more candy, so we continued on. At this house, the man behind the door brought out a giant basket of king sized candy bars. Snickers, Butterfingers, Babe Ruths. I had hit the jackpot. “Take as many as you’d like. We’re just about done for the night”. I really lucked out on this one! Suddenly a large figure appeared at my side. There stood my brother, who had lifted his jean jacket above his head as he exclaimed “I’m the headless horseman!” reaching his arm into the basket and removing 3 Babe Ruths.

Apparently he had seen the basket and its contents all the way from the street and developed a plan because he couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Eventually, I stopped laughing and eventually we found our way home. But I never forgot my brother, the innovative headless horseman and how it overshadowed my wallibeater costume that I had spent all too much time on.