Raid Always Wins: A Metaphorical and Literal Exploration of a Halloween Past

When I was in junior high, I had a core group of friends. In fact, we were clever enough to come up with a nickname for the group, and corresponding names for each individual group member. Please Note: The key words so far are "junior high" and "clever." The name of the group was the Fruit Loops (this was 1998 and much before any derogatory terms could pierce our young minds). Naturally, no pun intended, we all were named after a fruit. Some of the fruits that were lucky enough for us to entitle ourselves after them were cherry, peach, grape, kiwi and lemon. I was the lemon (not funny) (meh, kind of funny).

As any other core group of 13-years-old girls would do, we followed each other everywhere. Rarely was there a moment when were not all together. We even had one of those notebooks that the popular girls pass around to write who they are in love with that week and what their mom served for dinner that they refused to eat. However, one day the truce, the sisterhood and the love was broken. That day was none other than, ironically, Halloween.

It was a struggle up to the day before for the five us to decide on what to wear for Halloween. Past Oct. 31s brought us together as Teletubbies, a day which I remember fondly because we looked good that day (If you are not familiar with what a Teletubbie is, please follow link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ejzg5bCvT1U&feature=related). But this year, there was something different. There was an indescribable funk in the air. The funk of girls growing older and becoming more opinionated and bitchy. Maybe it was PMS, but I'm pretty sure that I just blatantly got forgotten on Halloween circa '98.

I remember going over the one of the girls houses the night before to hang out, or so I thought. In retrospect, I probably invited myself. However, sure enough, I showed up and what was scattered all over the pink carpet? Bug costumes. "What is this?" I asked, slightly panic-y. "Did you guys get costumes?"

"Yeah, aren't they cute?!?" said one of the backstabbers.

My prompt retort: "What am I going to wear?!"

"Ohhhh... Um...."

And that was the moment. The dreaded moment in a junior high girl's life when she realizes, "I've been left out!" I could feel the tears well up, but there was no way I was going to let these fake fruits (pun) get away with this.

Later that evening when I arrived home, I immediately ran to my mother to cry. "Mom, they left me out! I HATE THEM! HOW COULD THEY DO THIS TO ME!?!?"

"Oh, it’s ok, Meggie," she said.

"What am I going to do? Halloween is tomorrow and I don't have a costume?" There's something about the complaining moments of a preteen girl. They are high pitched, the syllables stretch, ect. Very much like how a dying cat. "What am IIIIIII goingggggg to dooooo? Haaaaalloweeen is tomorrowwwww?!?!?!" You get the idea.

"I know what we can do..." And then, like switchblade (shwing, swipe), my mother concocted what could quite possibly have been her most diabolical scheme she ever told me about.

We quickly jumped in the car and ran to the nearest grocery store. We would find all pertinent items to make my revenge costume there. When we got home, we turned my room into some kind of evil lab. I pulled out the scissors and Elmer's.
We worked diligently through the night, cutting and pasting, shaping and sculpting. But 10 p.m. we had completed the masterpiece and if I may say so, I looked good...

I went to school the next day to an orchestra of apologies. "Meg, I think we have an extra (fill in stupid bug here) costume, if you want to wear it?"

"No," I replied. "I am all set. I'll see you guys later tonight." It was perfect. For 13-years-old, I was sly and cunning. I was short and smooth. It was one of those perfect junior high days when you have a secret that EVERYONE wants to know.

And finally my moment arrived. We pulled up in my Mom's SUV and her and I got out. The rest of the giddy, curious girls piled out of the house to see what my costume was. We opened the back door and pulled out my red cardboard cylinder. I slid it on over my head and put on my spout. And there I was, the perfect life-size replica of a can of Raid.

Gasps filled the air. "Megan, you're going to wear that?!?!" If only I was allowed to swear at that tender age, I would have said something like, "What's up bitches! I'm-a about to f*ck you up!"

I have been asked if there was animosity in the air for the rest of the evening. My response, "Well, let’s put it this way: junior highers + free candy? The argument didn’t last long. Pretty soon we were hopped up on Skittles and Snickers and all was forgiven.”

So, Halloween, 1998: It was a battle of epic proportions. And, I may have lost the battle, but I won the war. Who do you think random strangers providing us with candy gave the most to? A couple of lady bugs and bumble bees? Mmmm … No way. And so it rings true in costumes and in life: Raid always wins.

(Umm... Hindsite: there's history on my work computer that I searched for "teletubbies." I think I hear the dudes from IT now... )