This issue:

(Y The prince and the unpleasant evening

Been told you're too funny?

Contact: Sharon Miki, Humour Editor

el eel cele ceeltiS 4 humour@theotherpress.ca

( Grammer Time www.theotherpress.ca

And more!

What the heck is ‘Halloween’?

» A young boy laments the tragic misrepresentation of his favourite holiday, Pre-Christmas

 

Julie Wright
Columnist

nce upon a time, ina

land far, far away, there
was a young boy, about five
years old, named Reginald,
who was so passionate about
Pre-Christmas (which falls
on October 31), that he just
didn’t know what to do with
himself.

“T just love Pre-Christmas
so much! My candy cane
decorations and Pre-Christmas
tree—which is white, instead
of the classic green, I’ll have
you know—get me in the mood
for Christmas two-and-a-half
months early! I just keep it
going all the way till Post-
Christmas on February 14,” said
Reggie, when questioned by the
Other Press.

For Pre-Christmas,
Reginald spends half of the
evening going around to all of
the different houses collecting
candy (which he thinks should
be candy canes), and the other
half of the night handing out
candy canes and talking to all
his neighbours about how great
Pre-Christmas is, even though
they greet his conversation with
strange glances.

“It’s a magical time,” Reggie
noted.

Pre-Christmas, however
enchanting, has been confusing
Reginald in recent years—
he’s noticed that every other
person seems to think that
Pre-Christmas is a time for
spooky goblins and scary
pranks, not sweet candy canes
and tiny elves. While Reggie’s
busy putting up his Pre-
Christmas tree and getting his
elf costume, he habitually sees
the people across the street
hanging spiders and skeletons,
and wearing insane scarecrow
costumes.

“I don’t know why [my
neighbours] put up such scary
decorations,” said Reggie, in
reaction to the ghastly actions
of his neighbours. “Pre-
Christmas is supposed to be one
of the most joyous times of year,
and it makes me not happy.

I want to tell them that they
should be putting up candy
canes and elf decorations, but
they always just look at me like
I'm crazy!”

Every Pre-Christmas,
little Reggie is baffled by his
neighbours’ decoration and
dress-up choices, but he will
never ask why they celebrate
differently than him.

 

 

College Confessional...

» Fat Tuesday

Kirsten Scott-Wuori
Contributor

Did you forget to wear a shirt
today? Did you wear too many
shirts today? Were you so
hungry after lunch that you
found yourself eating barely-
trash Timbits from the cafeteria
garbage can? Did you get your
period in any memorable way?
We want to know about it.
We know that there are times
in your life when you look at
yourself and you can barely
believe the shameful person
looking back at you—but
don’t worry! There’s absolutely
absolution in sharing. Get it off
your chest. Send us your most
cringe-worthy confessions at
humour@theotherpress.ca, and
spread the shame.

Last week I ordered some

food for myself for delivery—just
a large pizza, chicken wings,
breadsticks, and a salad—not
too much, right? The girl taking
my order asked how many sets
of cutlery I would like with my
order. What kind of question
was that? Would she judge me
if I said just one? So I said three.
Three seemed like a suitable
number for someone with my
apparently huge appetite.

As soon as I hung
up, I changed the show I
was watching on TV (Real
Housewives) to hockey (people
watch hockey in groups, right?)
and turned on some music in
the background—I wouldn't
need to start running the tap in
the bathroom until the doorbell
rang. I anxiously awaited the
arrival of the delivery guy,
mentally going over my story in

The girl taking my
order asked how
many sets of cutlery
I would like with my
order...

my head in case he asked any
prying questions.

When the doorbell rang, I
made sure to call out “I'll get it!”
just to solidify my story; why
would I yell that out if I was
alone, right?

After all the hassle of getting
the food I was so exhausted that
I only ended up eating two slices
of pizza and the salad. But I was
so paranoid, I still set the table
for three. It was a weirdly lonely
night.

—Paris, 22, Coquitlam