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You've heard the classic Halloween taunt: "Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat." Well, don't say that if you trick-or-treat at Mark Foley's house—nothing revs his engine like a little adolescent foot worship. In fact, Hotbovine's intrepid reporters (in a nauseating sting operation involving Boy Scout costumes and lots of "bad touch") have intercepted Foley's personal Halloween journals, and they make his office IMs look as innocent and lily-white as a bunny rabbit in a snowdrift. So supress that gag reflex as you read:
PEDOWEEN: At Home With Mark Foley
(or: "God Created All Hallow's Adam and Eve, Not All Hallow's Adam and Steve.") |
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6:09 pm: I am dressed in my leopard skin loin cloth. It's Halloween, again. I'm Congressman Mark Foley and I'm basking, nearly naked, in the light of a Jack O' Lantern, flexing, and waiting for children. What am I doing? What am I doing? What would the guys from the Ways and Means committee think if they saw me like this? |
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The Trick-or-Treaters will start coming soon. Should I switch to the Captain Underpants costume? No, too late to change costumes! Wait—changing to Captain Underpants just means taking off everything but my underpants. Maybe it’s not too late. |
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6:30 pm: First "customers!"... A girl dressed as a cheerleader and a Dora The Explorer. Best part? No chaperon! Too bad they were the "icky" sex. They looked a little creeped out. What will the next roll of the dice bring? The anticipation is hotter than the Osh Kosh runway show! Oh, god, I'm hyper-ventilating like the time I blew the football coach in the locker room! 6:37: Rubbed one out on the TV guide with the football match-ups on the cover. Had to throw it out. |
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6:40 pm: Getting darker... My lawn decorations are perfect. The candy bowls are full of Snickers, Mars Bars, popcorn balls and Necco Wafers. As darkness grows, I wait, love-temperature rising. Come forth, young Spider-men, boyish Bat-men, agile Aqua-men, slender Super-men, handsome Hulks! I’ve got sweet meats for you! 6:47 pm: Rubbed one out in the Junior Mints. Had to throw them out. This is getting expensive! If only I were Pete Townshend—I could write this off on my taxes. 7:02 pm What am I doing? I’m going to prison. I’m going to hell. I’m going to be killed by one of these strapping teen boys, dressed as Tarzan, flexing his marbled Captain-of-the-football-team muscles, grabbing my throat, manhandling me roughly, owning me, abusing me, debasing me... god, that is hot! 7:06 pm: Rubbed one out on a conference committee draft of the Adam Walsh Child Protection and Safety Act of 2006. Had to throw it out. |
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7:08 pm One pint of scotch gone, 26 trick-or-treaters. Fourteen of them girls (damn!) the rest boys! Ten of them I've seen in my dreams... Or were they on that website? So excited—I calm myself by ritually reciting a list of famous pedophiles: |
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7:15 Wait! That's it! Pete Townshend—I can pass this all off as research for my duties as Chairman of the House Caucus on Missing and Exploited Children! |
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7:18 pm Heaven help me! Two cowboys, maybe 15 years old, tops. I almost Brokebacked their Mountains, but then their mother came around the corner with a little Pokemon Pikachu. Oh, Pikachu, you are a god to me! Cat-like! Yellow! Striped! Small! 7:24: I am sick and evil. Slammed my penis in the grand Piano. But that was a huge turn-on and I rubbed one out in the M&Ms. Had to throw them out. 7:32: OK, the excitement's getting too much and the hour's getting too late. Time for the big guns. The next kid who comes along is getting my A-game. Wait! Sweet Home Alone! What a picture-perfect Harry Potter! I'd like him to touch my Hogwarts! Oh, mama, I'd Gryffin his door... Still, what I wouldn't do for a little Indiana Jones with a whip. I'd show him what a Deputy Whip of the House can do. |
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7:43 I got my "Halloween mix"--95% raisins, 5% Snickers. I put the bowl in my lap and make them reeeeally rummage for the Snickers. Ungh... Snickers really satisfies! 7:46 pm: When will people understand that people like me are simply expressing an alternative form of sexuality as valid and tender as any—oh, shit! A little pirate! I'm gonna cream my pants! |
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8:00 Put on the Raffi Halloween album. The pedophile's Barry White... 8:01 I've had a lot to drink. 8:03 Way too excited now. I clear the pipes while watching "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown." Linus is such a fucking tease and I love it. 8:20 Getting later now. The fruit's getting a little ripe on the vine, if you know what I mean. We're getting to the mid-teens now. 8:25 I calm myself by composing a list of my three biggest turn-offs, and finally narrow it down to:
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8:27 "Great Pumpkin" is really turning me on. Again. I'm pathetic. Please, please, God stop me before I—wait—more customers! |
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8:32 Three surly ones on the wrong side of their Bar Mitzvahs. I don't even think they were wearing costumes. Wouldn't have given them anything, except one had a cute younger brother with him who looked exactly like Father Mercieca back in the blissful days of Altar Boy-dom. God, I miss the church. |
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8:43 Just cracked the seal on another bottle of scotch. Feeling nostalgic. Went into the collection and dug out the old "Stand By Me" VHS tape. Time for a film fest... |
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9:19 A beautiful young girl just rang my door bell, dressed as a witch. She said she'd do "anything, and I mean anything for a place to stay tonight." She wrapped her leg around my waste and ran her hand across my chest and whispered in my ear. I threw up on her and then kicked her out. |
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9:48 Passed out in front of the TV with my hand down my pants. November 1st, 6:20am: Massive hangover. My head is pounding like the Castro during Pride week. The house is covered with eggs and toilet paper—and that's just on the inside. What the hell happened? Oh... regret... two Advil, a greasy breakfast, and get to work on my reelection campaign. Or maybe I'll get the Santa suit out of mothballs... |
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