Halloween on Monday seemed like a cruel joke played by some disembodied gamemaster in the heavens. For the children, it was a school night, the first one of the long week. Their delicious candies would not be fully consumed for days. For the adults, work awaited them on Tuesday, requiring the dishes to be done and early bed times. Their anticipated hangovers would be postponed until the weekend. As for The Van Man, well, he was stuck in limbo.
Another restless night in the van had taken its toll. He was weary and cold, sighing and groaning as he rose off the van floor. Van Man's steamy breath wafted from his dry mouth and he knew by the foggy windows that Los Angeles had a cold winter coming. And then he spotted the parking ticket. He checked the time on his cell phone. Eight-seventeen. Damn, they got me, he thought. Van Man buttoned his jeans as he stepped out onto the street. The parking sign read: NO PARKING MONDAY 8AM - 10AM. No freebies in this world. Not even on Halloween.
After a slight breakfast and a delectable coffee at a quaint spot in Toluca Lake, Van Man hit the library. He had auditions to submit for. Just my luck, he thought as he spied the open computer. It was next to an older man who, from behind, resembled old John Carpenter. Van Man's affinity for the horror director persuaded him to peer at whatever the Old John Carpenter was viewing on his screen...various images of vile grandmother filth. Van Man could only muster a double-take. Did he see what he thought he saw? Yes, elderly women spreading shotgun-blast vaginas and ancient hags squishing saggy, wrinkled tits filled the monitor. It was gross. It was crass. It was the most disgusting thing Van Man had ever seen and he had seen it all over the world. So Van Man took his seat next to the vile, piece of garbage.
Van Man soon realized he needed a picture. Something for proof of that level of sleaze. After all, legitimate foulness like Old Carpenter's did not come along often. Van Man set the camera phone on and stood to make it seem as though he was off to the bathroom. A few steps back and snap...Van Man got his picture. A nosy gentleman eased by, staring at Van Man who held a camera phone aimed at an old man with repulsive, grandmother pornography on his computer. The Old Fuck did not budge and Van Man stared back at the Easy Gentleman. What?, thought Van Man.
The van sat in the distance. Van Man approached with a satisfaction. Pure vulgarity existed in the world. He scanned over the digital photograph, proud and beaming. Random people were adorned in various costumes, walking here and there. Halloween was alive and well. And The Van Man had just learned the true meaning of that sacred holiday.