Oh, The Horror!

Ron Nagasawa
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Wednesday - November 12, 2008
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Next to Christmas, Halloween is probably the favorite holiday in the Nagasawa household. I think that comes from a long history of Halloween celebrations from when my younger sister, brother and I were kids. Our parents went the whole nine yards on Halloween.

I think that’s because we lived on an Army base in Okinawa. It was safe and everyone knew each other, so literally everyone would set up their homes in order to scare the kids who came by for trick or treat. I don’t know which was better, the candy or getting the heck scared out of you.

When we moved back to Hawaii, our parents maintained the tradition. Our dad would set us up with ghost stories and then point a flashlight out the window to see a six-foot ghost walking in the yard. Of course, we would later find out it was our mom with a bucket on her head covered in a sheet.


Well, this Halloween my wife promised our 11-year-old daughter she could have some friends over to go trick or treating and to have a little party and possibly a sleepover. We limited that to her and three other girls the same age.

There was pizza and tons of candy, costume dress-up and they played Rock Band. The girls were up in our family room, which is above our garage. Against the wishes of my wife, I decided I would uphold the Nagasawa tradition and give the girls a little scare.

I had a plastic skull of what looked like a zombie bride on a stick. It had glowing eyes and was pretty creepy, in a good way. I walked halfway up the stairs and held the stick up so that it appeared as though the skull was floating on it’s own.

Before I could say, “boo,” the four girls saw the skull and let out screams so loud and piercing I was afraid all the glass in the house was going to shatter. Of course, they screamed in unison, and it lasted as long as our last earthquake. The next thing I heard was my wife yelling at me to cut it out.

I immediately showed myself as the prankster and then the girls erupted into fits of laughter. My daughter made me promise not to do it again; otherwise they won’t get a wink of sleep since she ended up having a sleepover.

The next morning, as my wife was making the girls breakfast, they were all huddled next to each other on our living room couch watching TV. I was within earshot, and heard the scariest thing: They were talking about boys. That’s when I started screaming - so loud I was told, it could be heard on the Big Island.


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