144. Cucuphas Galo and the Surreal Halloween Party

As Michael said, he’d had foresight. He had hired people to do what he could not do for himself that year. But it didn’t look as if his Halloween party would be a bed of roses that year either. His exterior decorator was the renowned Cucuphas Galo. And Galo had turned Michael’s lovely autumn garden into a surrealistic scenario.

                                  

                    

“I’d like to congratulate you on doing a great job,” apologized Michael, “but I can’t see very well, so please tell me what you have done here.”

All Michael could see was a bleary, grey haze. His garden was beautiful and spacious, but it was not a spooky garden, so he imagined Cucuphas had had to work a lot to give it the right atmosphere for a Halloween party.

“There are loads of rose trees and bushes here and they are still flowering, so I imagine it must have taken you a while to paint the roses black. The mums too. I hope the paint you have employed hasn’t caused the vegetation any harm.

                                               

“Flowers in widow’s weeds? No way!” said Cucuphas Galo vehemently.

“Ah,” said Michael, a little warily, “I understand. All I see is grey. You’ve painted them grey because that is the in colour this year, or so I’ve heard. They are painting even babies’ rooms grey. I’ve a friend, a fairy named Moth, who told me this.”

Cucuphas interrupted Michael with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Grey, yes. Roses, no. A tree with a wig at the entrance is all the vegetation we need. No leaves either. No! No leaves, fallen, falling or holding fast! I’ve turned this site into a lunar scenario, but with a certain touch that makes one feel there has been a terrible cataclysm.”

“What?” asked Michael. He was afraid to ask what had become of the plants.

“It’s Halloween, isn’t it?” explained Cucuphas, aware that his client was much less sophisticated than he was. “People need to feel disturbed and disquieted.”

“That’s how I feel right now,” admitted Michael.

“You see? It works!”

“Tell me you haven’t destroyed the trees or the plants in my garden.”

“Oh, heck!” said Cucuphas. “I imagined you would be that scrupulous. So I’ve hidden them under dunes with craters and seas of silver dust. You needn’t worry about the local fauna either. I’ve told the spiders they won’t be welcome here tonight. Let them party elsewhere. I’m going to fill this place with ants any minute now and I don’t want confrontations.”

 

“But the spiders are among my most decorative guests,” objected Michael, “along with the black cats and I-”

“No!” shouted Cucuphas. “Not one! Not one black cat do I want decorating this place! Black telephones have taken their place. Unhung, they sound more nerve-wracking than a meowing cat. And they will give us a retro touch. Nor do I want pumpkins. They are so obvious. Instead, I have used clocks that will destroy themselves when they strike twelve. We don’t need pumpkins. What I have certainly brought over is a couple of elephants. I still don’t know very well how they will fit into the scheme, but as they are grey, at worst they will blend into the surroundings.”

“I hope my guests understand all this,” said Michael. “I’ll tell my spider friends to come disguised as black lace butterflies and not to act like wolves in sheep’s clothing. And the cats can come as -”

“Which reminds me that the guests who come wearing maks must leave them at the entrance along with their hypocrisy. We will hang them from the tree with the platinum wig, which will double as a coat-hanger. Those of your guests who have special abilities may be able to leave their own faces hanging from the tree too. And also at the entrance we wil give everyone a pair of very tall stilts to walk on during the feast, which should make them feel they are important to you above everything else. This should work wonders for their self-esteem and turn them into the life of the party. I have also taken the liberty to call the caterer and change your order. He will serve nothing but hard-boiled eggs. We will offer them encased in those tables shaped like half open red-lips with vampire fangs. We will play at drawing them out of the tables with our mouths instead of  bobbing for apples. Whoever fails to trap an egg gets nothing to eat. Such is the fight for survival, and there is nothing more frightening than that. But there will be drinks for everybody to drown in, overflowing, running rivers of hot chocolate lava, with and without milk. We will use gigantic straws to drink so as not to have to get off our stilts. Èsta bé? Is that ok with you? Of course it is. There is no arguing with genius. Remain openmouthed if you can’t respond better.” 

“Let’s see how I can tell you this so you will understand the problem I have without feeling offended,” said Michael, and he even tried in Catalan, which was Cucuphas’ mother tongue. “Organizar aquesta festa és una moguda.Organizing this party is always a headache. Year after year, an absolute moguda. It’s not that I mind being the riota, the laughing stock, of my guests. If it were only that! My guests...my father, for example...El meu pare és molt carca. My father is absurdly traditional. He will think you are com un llum, like nuts. I don’t even dare to think what will happen if he and his friends only get hot chocolate to drink. I’m scared shitless. Estic cagat!”

“SUCCESS!” cried Cucuphas, ecstatic. “This genius has captured the Halloween spirit!”