Every Halloween, my family tells this story. And every Halloween, my dad pretends he doesn't want to hear it.
I was the host. My three cousins, David, Sofia and Tommy, came over for a Halloween sleepover, and the plan was simple: candy, a scary movie, and everybody crashing in my room. I had a bunk bed, which at the time made me basically famous in the family.
About ten minutes after the movie ended, that bunk bed was a fort. Every blanket in the house went over the top bunk and hung down to the floor like walls. Couch cushions became the front door. Sofia raided the linen closet for "structural support." Tommy brought a flashlight and a pillowcase full of candy and named himself head of supplies.
David was the oldest, and he made sure we all knew it. He put himself in charge of security.
Around ten, a spider walked across the ceiling of the fort. Not a big spider. A regular spider. David screamed like a tea kettle, ran to the bathroom, and came back holding a can of Raid like it was a sword. He got the spider. Then he refused to put the can back. "In case there are more," he said, and tucked it under his pillow.
We thought this was hilarious. Nobody thought about it again.
Here's what we didn't know. My dad had been planning something for weeks. He'd found a rubber E.T. mask, the old kind, wrinkly and gray with the giant eyes, and he was just waiting for the right night.
Around midnight, we're all inside the fort with the flashlight off, telling ghost stories. Tommy's doing the one about the hook hand. Sofia's pretending she's not scared. And then we hear it. The door creaking open. Slow footsteps. The floor by my desk going creak... creak...
One blanket wall starts lifting up, very slowly. A flashlight clicks on under that face. Wrinkly. Gray. Giant eyes. One long finger reaching in toward us. And in the creepiest voice I have ever heard: "E.T.... phone... home..."
Sofia screamed. Tommy threw the candy. I'm pretty sure I left my body for a second.
David did not scream. David reached under his pillow.
PSSSSSSHHHHHHH.
He got E.T. dead center in the face. Big sweeping strokes, like he was painting a fence, yelling "GET BACK! GET BACK!" the entire time.
E.T. stumbled backward into my desk, knocked over the lamp, and shouted in a voice that was very much my dad's: "DAVID, IT'S ME! IT'S UNCLE MIKE!"
David kept spraying for at least two more seconds. He says he didn't hear. We all know he heard.
The lights came on. My mom was in the doorway. My dad was standing in the middle of the room with E.T. dripping off his face, the whole mask shiny with bug spray, the big eyes completely fogged over. The mask took every drop. Dad was totally fine. E.T. did not make it.
Nobody said anything while he peeled it off. Then my mom looked at David, looked at the can, and said, "Well. Looks like you got the bug."
The mask went straight in the trash. The fort stayed up for three more days. And every Christmas since, my dad gives David a can of Raid, wrapped, with a bow on top.
