The day the super hero pooped on my front porch.

Halloween has always been one of those holidays that just didn't do anything for me. It's not that I don't like holidays, because I do, I absolutely love Thanksgiving and Christmas. But it seems like everyone these days lives for Halloween. It has become the most popular holiday of my generation. I am not here to discuss the spiritual aspects of Halloween, because that is not the reason for my distaste. I personally do not think it is heathen to let your kids dress up and go trick-or-treating, or for adults to put on a costume and go have a good time at a party. I've been known to do that myself a time or two. But there is one pervading theme at the end of all my Halloween experiences - it's just not that fun. Maybe it's because I've never had the perfect costume, or maybe because I hate going out only to find some of my friends dressed up like sluts for the sake of a "costume". Who knows, all this bitterness could be due to the fact that my favorite childhood pet, Chadwick, was killed by my rambunctious teenage neighbors at their Halloween party simply because they saw a black cat walking down the street and they decided it'd be funny to throw him to his death in the neighborhood pool. Whatever the case, I am just not too keen about Halloween.

This Halloween provided yet another reason for me to find the holiday annoying. On Friday, October 30, I had taken my cumulative final examination for my Immunity and Infectious Disease class. Having never studied for anything so hard in my life, I was absolutely exhausted and beat by the time the weekend of freedom arrived. While most college students were gearing up to go out for all the Halloween festivities, I was winding down and getting ready to catch some much needed Z's.

Ed and I had watched a semi-scary movie on TV earlier that evening, and while I was somewhat scared from it, I convinced myself that it was just a stupid movie and that I'd be fine. Ed tucked me into bed and then left my apartment to go back to his place. A little before 3 am I woke up suddenly. Not knowing what caused me to do this, I figured I must have been having a dream. As I rolled over to try to fall back asleep I heard a noise. Now let me first say that I live in an apartment complex full of undergrad students, so it is always loud. I think normally I would have shrugged off the noise, but due to being on edge because of the scary movie I'd watched, I immediately picked up my phone and called Ed. I was afraid I would wake him up, but of course my night owl was still wide awake. I explained to him I heard something and he told me to not worry, he'd come over to check it out. FYI, he lives about 5 minutes from my apartment.

I hung up with him and once again rolled over to try to fall asleep, but then I heard the noise again, and this time it was louder. I turned on my bedroom lights, thinking that if someone was really out there and they saw that someone was inside, they'd panic and leave. Well the noises only started getting louder, and then I heard yelling. I opened up my bedroom door and looked down the hall and realized that the noise was coming from my front door. Someone was messing with the door knob. I immediately went to my bedroom, opened up my back window in case I needed an escape, grabbed a wood plank for protection, and called Ed again to let him know that someone was trying to get inside. He at first told me to calm down and that no one was really there, but then I walked up to the door and looked in the peep hole and sure enough saw a guy standing there messing with the door handle. I then screamed to Ed on the phone, "No, I am not making this up, I am staring at a guy right now!!!" Well that blew my cover with the intruder, and he started to yell at me. "Let me in! I hear you! LET ME IN!" Not knowing what to do, I figured I couldn't just ignore him since he knew I was in there, so I answered in a deep voice (trying to sound like a man, which was an absolute failure), "GO AWAY! GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY DOOR!" I felt bad for throwing the H word in there, but I needed to sound intimidating. I started beating the door and telling him to stop messing with me or else I'd call the cops. He laughed at me, which only made me more mad, and kept screaming to let him in.

After my verbal exchange with the intruder and physical exchange with the door (which probably lasted all of 10 seconds but felt like an eternity), I called 911. I explained the dilemna and the dispatcher told me that cops were on their way. She then asked me for details of what the guy looked like. "6 foot white male, about 20 years old" I answered. "What's he wearing?," she asked. I looked out the peep hole again to see. "A green sweatshirt, red cape, and no pants." Trying to hold back her laughter, the dispatcher told me she'd stay on the line with me as long as I needed or until the cops got there. I figured that it would be a good idea in case the guy got in, but then came the awkward silence. What do you talk to a 911 dispatcher about when you are waiting for a guy to break into your house? So I made some small talk. "If this guy gets into my apartment, am I allowed to hit him with my bat? Can I bash his head in?" She did not know how to respond to that, so after fumbling around for words, she said that I was allowed to protect myself if he did in fact get into my apartment. That made me feel better. I then let the lady know that my boyfriend was also on his way over to my apartment, so that the cops wouldn't beat him up if they happened to see him first.

Finally, I heard Ed run around the corner. My first thought was "Thank you Lord", but before that thought came to completion, a new thought emerged - what if Ed entered his "protective boyfriend that has way too many years of Army Special Forces training and can kill someone with one swift movement" mode? Fortunately, the stench of the gentleman intruder stopped Ed dead in his tracks. Ed would not get within 6 feet of him. The guy had pooped his pants, wadded them up and thrown them against my door, and was standing there in his underwear (not boxers, but undies) with poop all over his body. Ed told him to get away, and the guy kept saying that he wasn't going any where, this was his friend's apartment. Once Ed realized that this guy wasn't trying to break in or rape me, and that he was just completely wasted and high and had no idea where he was, he calmed down a bit. Ed tried to reason with the guy that he was in the wrong place, but the superhero was not going to budge.

The cops showed up shortly after, running to my front door from both angles so that the guy couldn't escape if he tried. But then all 3 of them did the same thing Ed did....sprinted all heroically around the corner then STOPPED within 6 feet. "What is that smell?!?," one of the cops yelled. Apparently it was atrocious; I never got a whiff of it. No one wanted to touch the guy, but the cops realized that he needed to be handcuffed and taken in. After finding a pair of gloves, one of the cops cuffed him. The guy mouthed off to the cop, so he tightened the cuffs another notch and threw the guy against the wall. It was beautiful. For the first time in my life, I liked the Po-Po.

I never got to thank the cops. I guess they didn't want to go through the trouble of filing a report, so they didn't even come talk to me. They did their job and left, which I was perfectly fine with. I had been all strong and put together during the whole ordeal, but when I finally got to see Ed afterwards, I fell into his arms and lost it, bawling my eyes out. I am such a girl.

I don't think there will be any long term consequences of this encounter with the pooping superhero intruder, but you never know. I do have a bruised fist from pounding the door, and I am still a little jittery at nights, but I expect a full recovery.

Until next Halloween....