Saturday, June 13, 2009


This shirt was for sale on Threadless but it's sold out. REISSUE PLEASE!

When I was a kid, my father made me a Pacman costume for Hallowe'en once. It was pretty awesome and the candy-giving neighbours had to throw the loot into the Pacman mouth where my pillow-case was attached. I have no idea why my father didn't take a picture of it.

There's a story to go along with it. My buddy and I were walking up the road (Me: Pacman, he: a woman--terrible costume, I mean come on! You can be ANYTHING!!) and there was this row of old townhouses and most had their lights out but there was one apt. with a candle on one of the decks and a couple of guys sitting there so I just assumed they had candy to dole out. So I go up the steps (not easy in the Pacman costume--nor my buddy's stupid high-heels) and approach the dudes who happen to be drinking some beer (stubby bottles), smoking and one of the guys was eating a banana (the town I grew up in was a very small hick-town so these guys were major stoner-hicks). I said, "Trick Or Treat" and they kinda looked at each other for a moment and the one guy then pulled out a knife and thrusted it into my friend's face. That's actually not true. The one guy looks over at his friend and says something and they kinda look stymied for a moment, so one of the guys shrugs his shoulders, pulls out a pocket knife, cuts a slice of his banana and tosses it into my Pacman mouth. There was an awkward silence as it slowly dawns on me that these guys weren't "officially open for business." I remember saying thank-you and then turning away embarrassed and deflated. Being inside this costume, I had no periferial vision so I can only assume he gave my buddy the same thing--in this case, it really more a trick than a treat. The hicks were laughing as Pacman and his girlfriend made their way clumsily down their stairs and I felt terrible. I realize now that these hicks were probably high as an eagle listening to Hawkwind with headphones on (the eagle; not the hicks--they were probably listening to Molly Hatchet or Steve Miller on an 8-track player).

When I got home that night to dump all my loot out onto my floor, the pillow-case had a mushy smeared wad of banana paste on it as did some of the candy. What a drag.


Mark said...

Does the smell of a rotten banana still haunt your dreams?

RocketChicken said...

Johnny, I hope you pass this valuable lesson on to your son. When someone throws banana at them, they should shank them with a pen knife and say "you're a banana, bitch".