My mum asked me to write to you and tell you about my Halloween party. She thinks that being my English correspondent, you will be happy to learn how Halloween is celebrated in our home.
This year, mum told me that we didn’t have much money for the Halloween costume and that we would have to make the costume ourselves.
At 17, I had not wanted to do Halloween for several years, but mum insisted that I continue to dress up and ask for sweets at the neighbours and in Clochemerle. So I was pleased to reply:
- You know, mummy, it doesn’t matter, I would stay here tonight, I could invite my friends. We would play video games and watch horror movies.
- Oh no, you’re not going to lock yourself up in your bedroom in front of a screen. And then, we’ve been celebrating this tradition since you were five. In addition, I already have the idea of the costume and it will not cost a lot of money!
For years, I had been suspicious of my mother’s "good ideas". I had often been ridiculed or even humiliated by her ideas. But mum seemed very enthusiastic and said:
- We’ll dress you like an Egyptian mummy and to make the bandages, we’ll use toilet paper, no expenses, it’s great! For the last accessories, we will take objects from previous years. You already have a mask and skeleton gloves, and you’ll be carrying a little pumpkin lantern from three years ago.
Indeed, on the paper, all this seemed good, but at the time of realising the idea, there were often disillusionments.
On Halloween night, mum was excited and wanted to start dressing me at 4:00 p.m. Fortunately, I managed to calm her down until 5:00 p.m.
- Take off your clothes so I can stick the strips of paper on you.
I obeyed her and removed my clothes, to stay with just my underwear. What bothered me a lot was that the two windows of the « salon » looked out onto the pavement. With all the kids hanging out on the streets, I risked being seen by all my young neighbours.
My mother took off my undershirt, so I ended up with just my little spiderman briefs. Because mum always bought my underwear, she always took me one or two sizes smaller, and with superheroes on it. Yes, I know I was ridiculous at 17 to wear this kind of underwear, but mum always saw me as a little boy. The fact that I was a "late bloomer" didn’t play in my favour. I had the smallest penis among my friends and football teammates. A few hairs had finally grown a few months ago. But mum, inadvertently, confused her depilatory cream with the moisturiser she used on my lower abdomen, so I was a baldy again.
But the next gesture of my mother took me by surprise and the stupor gave way to horror. She had just put my underwear down and I found myself naked like a worm in our very well lit living room. So any onlooker could see me in my birthday suit.
Immediately, I hid my private parts with my hands and moaned:
- mummy, what are you doing, everyone can see me! I have to keep a pair of underwear under the strips.
- Don’t be silly, you can’t keep a pair of blue and red briefs with spiderman on it under white toilet paper. That’s all we’d see!
While speaking, she had just lifted my bare feet to completely remove the last rampart of my dignity. I saw groups of children accompanied by some adults who gathered near the school, which was just a few metres from my home. My anxiety was escalating. Knowing that I would not have the last word. I saw only one solution, to speed up my dressing.
- But what am I going to put under the toilet paper strips ? I can’t go out naked, and it’s cold. And then, if the strips tear, we will see my wee-wee (yes mum does not want me to use the word penis, she adds that I am her little boy with her little wee-wee, something that she’s not at all bothered about mentioning in front of family or friends)
- I don’t want my little boy to catch cold, so I got you your white Damart undershirt, so you’ll be warm. For the bottom, you need nothing, teenagers are not chilly especially their little bird, she chuckled, using another of her little-boy words to describe my penis.
I was desperate, I loved my mother but sometimes I wondered if she was crazy. She lived in another world, where it was normal to show her 17-year-old son, naked!
She ran into the kitchen where she had put my Damart to heat in front of the fireplace. Meanwhile, I was squatting in the corner between the two windows so as not to be seen by the passing children. When my mother came back, she said to me in an angry manner :
- But what are you doing there ? Get up and come here so I can dress you, otherwise we... you will miss the candy distribution.
Dragging my feet, I stood under the lamp, in full view of the two windows. She slipped me the white undershirt, then began to wrap toilet paper around my legs, starting from the ankle to the upper thigh. She regularly used small pieces of tape to stick the paper to my skin. When my two legs were made, she continued by my waist.
A group of children rang the doorbell, and my mother abandoned me to offer sweets. By opening the door wide, some of the children could see me. My hairless wee-wee was still out in the open, so I put my hands up front to cover myself.
- Hello children, ooooh you’re scaaaary, but beautiful. Hello Mrs. B and Michelle, so the harvest is good ?
- Not bad, but we’re just getting started.
While the neighbours were chatting with my mum, the children whispered among themselves and pushed each other with their elbows to see me. My mother saw one of them looking.
- Oh yes, you saw my son. I dress him so that he can also join the parade.
- Do grown-ups like him also ask for sweets ? added a little girl.
- Of course, he’s my little boy, and at 17 he’s still a kid.
- What do you put on him for costume ? said a little boy.
- I dress him up like an Egyptian mummy, you want to come and see if you have some time.
- Oh, that’s nice, Irene, but we’re going to continue the collection, said Michelle.
I think I could have kissed her, I just escaped an exhibition in front of the children of my village.
- Ooooooh, we can stay just a little Madame, we still have a lot of time, begged a little girl, which was greeted by a chorus of approval from the other children.
- Okay, but not for long, mum said.
I saw a dozen kids running towards me, not knowing what to do to avoid a monumental shame. Without realising it, I was stepping back to hide behind the seat. But I felt the strips come off and fall on my ankles. My mother, who had closed the door to follow her neighbours inside, noticed.
- Titi, look at what you did, we have to start all over again. I told you not to move until I fixed everything. Come under the lamp.
I found myself, with my hands still held between my legs, in the middle of 12 little neighbours and in front of two women I met regularly.
- Hold your arms out and spread them so I can fix the paper, mum instructed.
- We will help you if you want Irene. What do you want us to do? Michelle asked.
Dazed, stunned, I saw myself discovering that my boy bits were not as intimate as all that. I was standing, half naked, in the middle of our living room with an audience to witness the design of my Egyptian mummy costume.
Totally, euphoric, my mum was running the operation.
- So I’ll roll the toilet paper strips around his legs and you can regularly put a piece of tape to fix, if you want.
- And we’ll help, Ma’am, added another little girl, whom I regularly saw walking a dog with her big sister in front of our house.
- Oh, that’s nice of you to offer, but it’s tricky, the paper tears easily, but sit on the chairs and seats and grab some candy from the jar.
Madame B., a big smile on her face, looked at me, well let’s say she was staring at my little package.
- Madam, can I ask a question? a boy intervened.
- Of course, replied my mother, while wrapping the paper along my thighs.
- You said your son is 17…
- Yes.
- Then why does he have no hair ?
- And such a small weenie, chuckled another boy.
- Well, children, those are good questions. We’re going to do a quick lesson in sex education. Not everyone is equal in puberty. Girls start long before boys. Some boys start very late, like my Titi. And then, some girls have big breasts, others small, it’s nature. Some boys have big penises, others little wee-wees, like my son. There’s nothing I can do, but I prefer it that way. And you girls? You prefer a big hairy thing, all purple red or the little pink and smooth whistle of my Titi?
- I prefer his, cried the little girl who I’d seen with the dog, it resembles that of my baby boy doll Corolle
And if God had the good idea to open the ground and swallow me! I could not imagine a more intense shame.
- Well, we finished his legs, continued my mother. We’ll go to the waist, we’ll end up in the middle.
Of course, what a good idea, why hurry to hide my bottom and pee-pee! I silently fumed at my indignity being prolonged in this way.
While the two women surrounded my torso, the children bent down, crouched down to better see me. Regularly, after whispers, bursts of laughter exploded, humiliating me even more.
When my torso was finished, the women took a break.
- Well, what do you think, kids ? It’s good for now ?
- Bof, not so good, confessed a little boy
- No, but it’s not over, but the legs and torso are well covered ?
My mum seemed upset by the reply of the kid. Me, I saw above all that I remained in the open and that the women no longer advanced.
Fortunately, Madame B. reminded us of her presence.
- Excuse me, but we will have to go because otherwise the children will come back too late.
- Ooooooooh no, escaped from the mouths of all the children, just a little bit… to see the finished costume… please Madam.
- I’ll put on his hood and gloves and finish the rest after you leave.
My mother hurried to please both the children and her neighbour. The hood being badly put on, I could hardly see, but did not dare to move. It was therefore an Egyptian mummy, pee-pee and bottom exposed, that the group inspected.
After a last thank you, some hugs, the group was finally out.
I heard the almost hysterical laughter of the girls along our facade. I didn’t know what I would do when I met them on the street. I certainly wouldn’t cross their looks.
Once alone, I allowed myself to complain.
- Mummy, why did you do this ? You can’t show me naked in front of strangers and in addition to the school children.
- But my Titi, you can see that it did not bother anyone. On the contrary, the little girls loved you, they did not want to leave.
- But, mummy, I am the one who is bothered!! I am 17 not 5 years old. You have no right to show me naked like that.
Well, maybe the last part of my sentence wasn’t clever. My mum didn’t like it.
- What do you mean, I have no right ? Until proven otherwise, I am your mother, I made you, so I don’t need to ask your permission. As long as you’re under my roof; as long as you’re my little boy, you have no secrets. The little girl said it right, your pee-pee looks like her baby doll’s, so you have nothing to hide.
The final blow had just been given to me. After this slap to my masculinity, I remained motionless and silent until the end of my dressing.
My mum went to get the little orange pumpkin bucket and the small lantern, so I could pick up the sweeties.
- Well, it is a little later than I thought, we will go straight to Clochemerle. Come in the hall and wait for me, I’ll get the car.
I was moving slowly so as not to tear my costume. When I got in the vehicle, I felt the strips of paper spread a little… some slipped.
We arrived at the lakeside car-park, there were lots of people. As I walked down, my bare feet felt the cold of the asphalt and a fresh wind reminded me that I was almost naked under the strips of toilet paper held in place by a few pieces of sticky-tape.
The parade didn’t start until 7:30 pm and it was 6:00 pm so mum decided to take me into the town to ring people’s doorbells and ask for sweets. I was cold and I was afraid that a gust of wind or a too sudden gesture would tear my costume. In summary, I was in a hurry for this evening to end. Despite everything, I collected some sweets, and the reception of people was friendlier than I feared.
After one and a quarter hours ringing doorbells, I was starting to shiver a little and my feet were cold. Mum decided it was time to go back to the lake for the beginning of the parade. There were more than two hundred people, children and parents. I noticed that I was not the only teenager, but the ones I saw were in a gang with their friends and in cool costumes, nothing like the ridiculous one I was wearing.
The organisers launched the parade and for an hour, we walked around the town. A little sheltered in the crowd, I was less cold, on the other hand I felt my costume disintegrating little by little. On the Town Hall square, a deputy mayor asked the children to approach. Of course, my mother pushed me to go. The other teenagers were careful not to go. We received a bag full of sweets and tickets to the cinema.
Phew, the ordeal was coming to an end. But a local journalist noticed my mum’s presence.
- Good evening, Madam… and young man, I thought it was wonderful to have a big boy with his mother. It is rare these days. I would like to make a small interview and some photos to insert in the the town’s newspaper.
My mum was thrilled, of course. She gave our name, my first name, that she called me Titi, all the elements that would ensure I would be ridiculed by the young people of the neighbourhood.
The journalist took us to a pile of bright pumpkins. She took two or three pictures of me with my mother, then some of me on my own… only my costume, which had been mistreated, gave up at the worst possible moment. At least a particular part of it did.
In the middle of the photo shoot, my hairless wee-wee came out of hiding and was immortalised. Unfortunately, with my hood, I couldn’t see anything down there. So I didn’t realise anything was wrong. On the other hand, I saw several people including teenagers, taking photos with their mobile phones.
My mother, happy to have been chosen to be in the local newsletter, had turned to chat to the young journalist and wasn’t looking in my direction. The girl continued to shoot with her camera, as if she was not aware of anything.
It was the laughter and exclamations of the little crowd that brought my mother back to earth. She looked at me, and noticed that a little thing was poking out of the front of the Egyptian mummy. My little pee-pee had shrunk in the cold, but as my testicles were also out, everyone could see everything.
Once again, my mother’s reaction was not as expected. She burst out laughing instead of running to protect and cover me.
- My God, he had a little accident. I made the costume myself with toilet paper. It ended up tearing. I couldn’t put a pair of underpants on him because he only likes brightly coloured ones with superheroes, so under the white, it was impossible.
All this time, I still didn’t understand anything, but, as apparently the photo shoot was over. I approached the journalist and my mum, still laughing.
- Sweetie, your little pee-pee came out of the suit with your little marbles, mum said and turned to speak to the journalist.
- We’re going home. Of course, don’t put the last photos you took in your article, but if you could email them to me, I would be grateful. It will make a great Halloween memory with my little boy. It will make my friends and family laugh.
Decidedly, my dear mum knew how to please me and to show me up.
Of course, my hands were immediately lowered to serve as a shield to my modesty, but too late. My shame had been captured by dozens of cell phones and would end up on social networks, if not already done. Plus, I knew all of mum’s relations could revel in the photos from that night.
I hesitated between committing suicide or going to the end of the world. I wanted to burst into tears, but the fatigue, the cold, the accumulation of humiliations had anaesthetised me.
This is when my costume decided to give up its soul (normal for an Egyptian mummy). The strips of my legs began to slide to my ankles, but especially my buttocks which also found themselves in plain sight. This time, I burst into tears, it was the last infamy.
The passers-by around us were all laughing.
My mother wouldn’t give me her coat because it was cold. It was a stranger who was next to us, who approached and put his jacket on my shoulders. My heart exploded with gratitude for this man, if he’d said he wanted to adopt me, I would have agreed then and there.
My mum slipped away to get the car. Meanwhile, the journalist took the address of my saviour to conclude her article.
Once, in the heat and shelter of my mother’s car, my nerves cracked a second time and I melted into tears.
The following days and weeks were horrible because everyone in Clochemerle knew all the details of my evening. The journalist’s article was catastrophic for me. She gave all the details and my precise address. No events were hidden. She had published the photos, even the one where my dignity had been lost. Certainly, she had put an eggplant to mask my pee-pee (stating that this vegetable was disproportionate to what it hid, followed by two emojis - laughter to tears).
Here, dear correspondent, is the detail of my misadventure that traumatised me a little.
Very friendly,
Émile
PS mum initially said that she would not read this message to you because she did not want to spy on me. But she did read it to check that I was not making any mistakes, but she did not like some sentences about her. She decided not to censor me, but I am to add that I will be spanked every two days for two weeks to atone for all the bad things I said.
Just how he needs to be treated.
ReplyDeleteThanks a lot for your comment ! This is the first time I published a story on the internet, I had written it for Mogg who was very kind to make it appear.
ReplyDeleteFriendly,
Laurent