Jason Writes Most Days In November In His Blog Instead of Trying The Impossible Task of Writing A Novel In A Month: November 3

The English do not understand Halloween deep in their bones like Americans do. I walked through all the grocery stores – where are the bags filled with 700 fun size candy bars? They are nowhere.

How don’t the English understand that the best way to commemorate a night that evolved from the Celtic belief that the spirit realm is never closer to being within our mortal grasp than to find a house that gives out FULL size candy bars? Even worse, most of the candy given out is Valentine’s-Love-Heart-type candy. I wept for Ethan and Rose. How are they going to get enough nougat?!

Exactly one Dad dressed up as the grim reaper. Everyone else dressed up as usual, in their evening houndstooth suits and bowler hats. It’s England, they’re weird. But then, we turned a corner and saw green laser light on the ground. We turned to face the laser to find it shining through smoke(!), smoke from a smoke machine that was behind a skeleton! YEAH. And there were candles hanging all across his courtyard, a wire barely visible between them! YEAH!! And a yellow Caution: Wet Floor sign that instead cautioned you against flesh eating zombies! HELL YEAH!! And Thriller was playing! SHAMON!! This was the only Englishman to Get It. He still passed out shitty candy, and he was houndtoothin’ it up, but the production values shattered everyone else’s attempts in Grappenhall. If any fairies made it through to our world, they would’ve gone straight to his house.