So I've decided to wear my Pooka suit to Adobe for Halloween. The rest of the receptionist team promised they would dress up as something, but so far all I see are a lot of welshers. Typical.

So far, I've been accused of being a bunny, a rat (twice -- these people will suffer dearly for their insult) and I'm sure at least once before the day is through I'll be called a donkey by someone. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Tonight, we'll bum rush a local supermarket for a last-minute pumpkin and some candles, put up our "it's safe to trick-or-treat here" signs so thoughtfully provided for us by apartment management, and settle down for a double feature of Pushing Daisies and Bug, a sufficiently creepy-looking movie to watch while we're passing out candy to all those ghosts and demons and spider-men.

Later, much later, when all the kids have gone to bed and stations have reverted back to their safe, scream-deprived programming, I'll indulge myself and call up the ghosts of Camus, Harvey the Rabbit and -- why not? -- Dostoevsky for a game of existential Texas Hold 'Em. There'll be nothing to bet, all of our cards will be 7-2 unsuited, but I'll have to imagine us as happy.

Happy Samhain, Halloween, and NaNoWriMo Eve!