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We Could Be Heroes

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“She can’t go like that!”

”Why not? She looks cute.”

“She looks like a Klansman.”

“She does not! She looks like a ghost.”

“Okay. She looks like the ghost of an Imperial Wizard.”

“Because she’s in white?

“She has a point on the top of her head. What is that anyway? A pillowcase?”

“She was a little claustrophobic in just a sheet. This she can pull off if she needs to.”

“I’m not letting her go trick or treating looking like that.”

“You got a better idea?”

The mini Klansman stood before them looking up through eyeholes from one man to the other. Little Grand Wizard Sarah piped in, “What’s a Cans Man?”

“It’s a horrible, scary person full of evil and hatred. They have a kind of ... club and they wear white sheets with pointed hoods.”

“Aren’t you suppose to be something scary for Halloween?”

“Yes honey, but this is a little different. You know you don’t have to be something scary. You can just play dress up too. You could be a fairy princess.”

“That’s pretty girly, isn’t it? A little stereotypical, Mr. Politically Correct?”

“She is a girl! Not wanting her to go out looking like a terrorist isn’t ‘political correctness.’ It’s basic decency. Besides, you want her to have to live down the year she went trick or treating like a member of a hate group?”

“She’s a ghost!”

“Why don’t we just shave her head and make her a Neo Nazi!”

”Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

”If, like we promised we would, take pictures of her trick or treating like this her mother will never let us see her again!”

The Klansman’s shoulders were shaking and bouncing up and down. Hannibal pulled the pillowcase off to find Sarah in tears.

“Look what you did!”

“I didn’t do it. You did!”

“I don’t wanna be a Cans Man,” Sarah wailed.

“It’s okay sweetheart.”

“Do you want to be a princess?”

“No.” It was final. They couldn’t be sure under the sheet, but it looked like she crossed her arms.

“You like cheerleading. Wanna be a cheerleader?”

“No.” The tears were gone. She was in full father’s daughter mode.

“You wanna be an animal?”

“No.”

“You’d make a cute pussy cat.”

“No.”

“Little Red Riding Hood.”

“No.”

”Goldilocks.”

”No.”

”All of us could be the three bears.”

”No.”

“A genie.”

”No.”

”A nurse.”

”No.”

”A doctor.”

“No.”

“A vampire.”

“No.”

“A witch.”

“No.”

“A pirate.”

“No.”

“One of the girls from Disney.”

“No.”

“A bat.”

“No.”

“A superhero.”

“Yes.”

“An angel.”

“Wait. Back up there. You wanna be a superhero?”

She nodded her head up and down furiously.

“Which one?”

“Capt. Kristen Griest.”

“Who?”

“Well I’ll be damned.”

“Don’t swear in front of her. Is that one of the lady superheroes by day?”

“No. She is a superhero,” Sarah explained like she was talking to a four-year-old. “She was one of the first lady Army Rangers.”

”You think she’s a superhero?”

”You are,” she said matter of factly. “Can’t a girl Ranger be one too?”

”Absolutely. Maybe even more so.” A palm stroked across the top of her head. 

“Can I get a tattoo?

“No!” they said in unison.

She crossed her arms and pursed her lips.

“We can draw one on. Look, we have a week, honey. That’s plenty of time to put your costume together. Hey, why don’t you run upstairs and take that sheet off.”

“Okay!” And she was off in a flash.

“Did you already know who Capt. Griest is?”

“Of course I did. I’m surprised you didn’t.”

“Don’t be smug.”

“Who’s being smug? By the way?”

“Yeah?”

“She made a great ghost.”

“She looked like she was going to a cross burning, Hannibal.”

 

 

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