An Open Letter to Count Dracula: I’m Sorry I Kicked You in the Nards
I realize now that you weren’t really Count Dracula, but back the 1970s I thought you were the real deal. You see, my Mom and I went to my elementary school’s Halloween party. I must have been six or seven years old.
At that age, I believed in werewolves, super-heroes and vampires. That year, I had dressed up as Robin from “Batman and Robin”, and designed my own costume.
I have to say — I did a kick-ass job on my costume, at least according to my young self.
After spending time the gymnasium, dunking for apples and collecting candy in our plastic bags and pumpkins — we ascended the steps to a gloomy room. At least twenty children, including their parents and me and my mother, lined up against the wall. In the middle of this room there was a coffin. It creaked open and you emerged. You started at the far end of the room. The girls and boys you terrorized cowered and cried as you loomed over them.
It was in that moment that I decided — I was going to save everyone, even in the absence of The Batman. After all, I was Robin, goddammit! Not that I knew that word as a child, but I knew I wanted to be a hero and save everyone from the vampire who was scaring everyone.
Finally, Count Dracula loomed over me. Like with everyone else, he must have expected me to tremble.
