i presented rooster oliver to brian's place of employment so he could make the rounds. daddy won one of four costume prizes. he almost won two others. the only one he didn't come close to winning was, of course, the one he wanted the most: scariest.
i trudged along behind, dressed only as myself, and wondered how someone's legs could be so skinny that their hose were loose. even with the mat of hair helping to plump them up in spots.
i thought going to dream cafe in dallas might be fancy because there are usually alot of kids there and maybe just maybe they'd be dressed up. but we weren't up for driving through the traffic and went to dream cafe addison instead. it was completely empty. we had two servers waiting on our every whim. i think they were careful not to approach while oliver was eating. brian reckons the trainer server (dressed as a pirate) was from france. all i know was he had an accent i didn't recognize and couldn't understand and when he asked us several times in a row if we would have "sheeken feeengairs" i was relieved of my building panic and vegetarian confusion when brian managed to magically translate it to "trick or treaters". me and accents... we just don't get along.