Party 'Til The Pony Comes Home

The Pony is not exactly a party animal. He keeps to himself. Not one to go to the Elementia sock-hop back in the day, like the #1 son. Seems like only yesterday #1 was wearing a little astronaut suit, or striped criminal black-and-whites with a plastic ball and chain, or a slice of pepperoni pizza, kicking up his crusts with classmates at the Halloween party.

This year, Thursday to be exact, The Pony plans to attend the Newmentia Halloween dance. It used to cost two dollars more if you didn’t come in costume. This year, rates have been slashed. One admission fits all. But The Pony still wants to dress up. Therein lies the dilemma. He originally wanted a costume for his Missouri Scholars Academy reunion coming up in November, and planned to wear it to this dance as well.

The first costume idea was a Roman soldier. The Pony has much memorabilia in the form of helmets and swords, picked up here and there at auctions or Christmases. He knew he couldn’t take a sword. He had his eye set on some armor, the leather segmented kind whose name escapes me now. Of course it costs in the mid three figures for a replica. So I told him that was not really feasible, and that I couldn’t imagine him actually wearing it when the time came. He mulled it over, and relented.

The second costume idea was Gandalf. I found a good costume on the innernets, and The Pony had a grand plan for him and his dad to make a staff with a light in it from a walking stick he could find in our woods. Then he must have thought about actually wearing that dress robe in public, and changed his mind.

The third and final idea for a costume will be worn to Thursday’s dance. The Pony is going to attend as…are you ready for this…drumroll…A DEVIL’S PLAYGROUND EMPLOYEE! Shh…don’t let it slip. Nobody is supposed to know until he shows up. He says all he needs is a pair of khakis, a blue shirt, and a nametag. Check, check, and check. Now all I have to do is make that little six-exclamation-point logo to put on the back of his shirt. Let’s see…it’s Tuesday night…conferences run until 7:00 p.m.…he needs it by Thursday before I go to work and more conferences…yeah. We’re on schedule.

I cautioned The Pony that some kids whose parents might work for The Devil could find his costume insulting. He said, “My whole premise is that I am my own worse nightmare, a 30-year-old Devil’s Playground worker living in my mother’s basement.”

Yeah. A frightening premise. Hope nobody has a weak heart.