Since I am now well-past the life-stage of taking my kids Trick-or-Treating (thank God), I was able to spend the evening curled up next to a bowl of bite-sized Almond Joys and Snickers. My plan was to guard these little tidbits of sugar like a rabid dog until all of the treaters gave up for the night and returned home. And as I waited, I would write.
Naturally, my attentions turned to humor . . . including some of the humor I need to find in my own life.
A few days ago, someone asked me, "By the way, how is your most recent book selling? Lots of copies I hope!"
I wish. In actuality, the book sales have been deplorable . . . so rotten that I should change my name to Todd Rotten Outcalt. At least editors would know what they were getting into if they signed me up. Rotten. Rotten. Rotten. My sales are somewhat like a pumpkin that's been sitting out in the sun for the better part of the summer. Dried up, caved in, rotten to the core.
The only consolation I have, of course, is Halloween candy. I was at a weight of 203 pds just a few days ago. Now I'm up to 210 pounds and gaining fast. With each Snickers and Almond Joy I feel a little better. My wife keeps buying the stuff, too. I'm surrounding by bowls of candy as I write this. Heaping bowls. Bowls that are spilling out into the dog's dish, the cat's feeding tray. Candy that is stacked so high, I could bath in it. (Maybe I should!)
This week, I will be submitting some of my humor to various magazines. I've written nearly twenty humor pieces in the past six months and I've got them polished now to a high-gloss.
I have to find something to laugh at. And usually it's me laughing at the guy in the mirror. Lord knows I need the diversion. I certainly can't take myself seriously.
It's a great Hallloween. Now, if only I had some black licorice.