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Tony Fitzpatrick
The Broadway Beast

by Tony Fitzpatrick

Few memories evoke as much giddy joy for me as Halloween. For myself and the collection of miscreants, juvenile delinquents, and future felons that comprised my peer group, Halloween meant that we owed our community some smashed pumpkins, obscene renderings, trees full of toilet  paper and of course the odd flaming bag of dog shit on the front stoop. Halloween untethered us. It was the day we more resembled the beasts we were to become. Halloween was the day we handed some of the horse-shit back to the adults. Halloween was ACDC, a monster sugar buzz, stolen liquor -- in my case my father’s fifth of Jim Beam -- and getting some payback.