“Be careful!” Susan said to the slamming car door.

She sighed as her second teenager ran off to join her friends at a Halloween party. It was the first year that she wouldn’t be trick or treating with her kids. A new era. It was a bit melancholy but meant at least Susan could kick back once home and watch scary movies, something no Halloween would be complete without.

She’d always loved Halloween and scary movies. Susan would often quote that the original 1978 “Halloween” had changed her life. Heck, even now, as she was driving home from drop offs this Halloween early evening, the jarring theme song played on loop out of her car windows.

As Susan smiled at the cute and scary costumes, she recalled as an 11 year old watching the first movie with her older cousins on her brand new “VCR.” It was in the family room of her childhood home and it was summer time. The movie was terrifying and the first time she had really seen some adult themes, having grown up rather sheltered.

What always impacted her the most was the end. Because while during the warm summer day, it was easy to laugh it off, at night, it was a completely different story. At the end of the movie at first, it seems Michael Myers, the film’s omnipresent protagonist, has been vanquished by his long-suffering psychiatrist, Dr. Sam Loomis, in an attempt to save his final would-be victim’s, Laurie Strode, life.

Loomis shoots Michael numerous times until he falls backwards off the balcony. Naturally, any living thing would be dead. However, when Loomis looks over the balcony a second time, the spot where Michael’s sprawled body lay was empty.

He was gone.

The ominous ending notes of writer/director/composer John Carpenter’s theme haunts the various empty scenes that had been visited throughout the movie. The meaning is evident.

Where did he go? Where was he now? He could be anywhere.

This was the scene that kept Susan up at night as a child for a long while. She would imagine she’d see him in her driveway, looking up at her bedroom window. Or lurking in her home’s hallway. Yet, despite her terror. She, much like Michael, kept going back for more.

Halloween II, (we don’t talk about III here,) IV, V, etc. She’d seen them all dozens of times.

It was funny, Susan thought, driving through the festive streets to her equally festively decorated home, how that music could make anyone walking down the dark streets be mistaken for Michael. That little Susan whispered in her ear. She shrugged it away, chuckling.

“Come on, you’re 52. You aren’t SCARED!” she said out loud.

Susan turned up the long, and frankly terrifying to most, dark, and woodsy driveway up to her home, lit with pumpkins and orange lights. She smiled. She just loved Halloween. It was her favorite day of and favorite time of the year.

Susan grabbed her purse and a six pack and slowly made her way to the sliding doors of her cozy home, stopping on the stoop to admire her jack-o-lantern. This year, she had paid homage to the jack o’lantern that makes its appearance in the opening scenes of the original Halloween, which was oddly and crudely done for such an important moment. Still, Susan was a sentimental sap at heart. The off-size eyes and smile made her happy.

As Susan put her hand on the door, she heard a crack of a twig behind her that gave her a little chill. She turned her head slightly to the left and just out of the light of her patio, she thought she saw something. She put her items down on the steps and walked back slowly toward the twig noise.

And then, she saw him.

Just faintly silhouetted in the moonlight, her flashing purple skeleton lights reflecting off what she knew could only be a knife.

Michael had come for her. At last.

Susan thought quickly, her breathing racing. Her only neighbors weren’t home. Her driveway was impossible to find in the bright light of day, let alone night. Even if she called the police, no one would get to her in time.

Much like Laurie Strode, in the first movie (and in the second and then 20 years later, and then the one after that and then most recently in entirely unnecessary sequels that ignored an entire storyline that the franchise was built on, but we digress), Susan knew she had met her fate.

That moment she had feared since she was a little girl. That the long-lost Michael would finally come for her. It was now.

Susan prayed it was a dream as he slowly advanced in the way only Michael did. Michael didn’t run like Jason. He didn’t crash through your bed sheets like Freddy. He just…walked.

Having viewed herself a Michael expert at this point, Susan knew turning and running was a waste of time. So she just waited.

He walked slowly toward her, coming fully into the light now. She could hear his signature labored breathing from his beaten-up mask. He was not as tall as she’d expected.

Now they were face to face. Again, much like he does, Michael turned his head slightly to study her face. His hand opened and closed on his extremely clean knife.

“Does he actually wash it?” Susan though, manically for the moment.

Then suddenly, shockingly, he spoke.

“Wait a minute! You’re not a teenager,” he said an in an uncharacteristically high-octave voice muffled by his mask.

“Wait a minute,” Susan said, “You don’t talk!”

Michael crossed his arms.

“Of course I talk. Everyone is always ‘Carpenter’s a genius, such a great writer, such a great director. Blah blah.’ You know why he’s a genius? His main character doesn’t have speaking lines. Not ONE! Do you know what that means in acting contracts? I get a quarter of everyone else’s pay. It’s bullshit,” he said.

“Wow, ok. I’m sorry. That sucks,” Susan said.

“Yeah yeah. It is my movie and Jamie Lee Curtis got paid twice as much as me and it was her first job. Apparently Jason Vorhees and I got screwed by the same shitty agent. Meanwhile Freddy Krueger just bought a second home in Jackson Hole. Bullshit,” he said.

Susan was too startled to say anything.

“Anyway, why aren’t you a teenager? I thought you would be by now,” he said.

“Um, first off, thanks for telling me I’m old. Is this your new method of being a slasher. Slashing people’s egos?” she said.

“Hardy har,” he said.

“No, dude, I’m not a teenager. You’re off by three decades or so,” Susan said.

“Ugh,” he said. “Damnit, I was on the way here from Illinois, but I got stuck in a few sequels along the way. Didn’t realize how long it would take,” he said.

Susan cracked a beer and offered him one.

“Thanks,” he said, taking it.

“Then my Cab and Stab driver didn’t show up on time, on top of which we got lost trying to get here. What kind of driveway is that anyway? I was scared and I’m Michael Myers,” he said.

As he tried to fit the bottle neck into his mask’s mouth hole, Susan chuckled.

“I know, I know. Half the time my neighbors get my pizza delivery by accident,” she said.

After he swallowed, he paused — “Neighbors? Any teenagers over there?”

“No!” she said firmly. “Would you cut it out? What’s with the obsession with teenagers? It’s weird. I’ve seen you kill other ages before.”

“I know, I know. But on Halloween, I like to keep things traditional, my evening kills have to be teenagers mainly. I think Loomis tried to say years ago it was to replace my sister Judith, who I butchered my first Halloween, but who knows. That’s a whole other thing,” he said.

“Well as a mother of teenagers now, I would greatly appreciate if you could not do that anymore,” Susan said.

“Listen, do you think I want to do this?” he said, gesturing with his knife.

“Actually,” Michael said, pausing, “Take that back, I do want to do this.”

Susan sighed.

“Why me, though? How did you find me?” she said.

“Well when you first watched my movie way back then, I could sense your fear. It is something that attracts me. The more people fear me, the easier it is for me to find them and makes me want to kill them more. Maybe it’s a kink, who knows,” he said, shrugging.

“Dude, please, TMI. I am not your shrink,” Susan said, raising a hand to initiate the stop sign.

“Well, I do have a vacancy in that department. I think Loomis bit it in Halloween VI so I could really use a new one. Any interest? It pays well,” he said.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure by the time he was killed he had burns on half of his body, had been shot and might have been missing an eye. Not sure the occupational hazards would be worth it,” Susan said.

“Ugh. I really need the help,” Michael said.

“Look, I personally think the knife is a ‘metaphor,’ if you know what I mean,” Susan said, uncomfortably.

“No kidding, genius,” Michael said exasperatingly. “Do you think it is a coincidence that I always manage to stab couples to death just before he ‘metaphorically’ stabs her,” he said, raising two scarred over finger gestures in the quotes symbol.

“Gross,” Susan said.

Suddenly Michael’s arm made a noise — Susan realized it was his watch notification. Michael raised his Apple watch to his eye hole and muttered under his breath.

“You have an Apple watch?” Susan said, incredulously.

“Yes, how else do I keep up the countdown to Halloween? These other guys have more flexibility. Me, I oversleep one day and blow the whole thing,” he said.

“Just got a text from that asshole Krueger sending me a pic of him in his new jacuzzi on the ranch with a bunch of hot chics. Meanwhile I’m drinking a crappy beer on my big night with a 52 year old,” he said, then paused. “No offense.”

“Gee, thanks. At this point it might have hurt less if you’d just stabbed me to death,” she said.

“Well…,” Michael said, offering his knife.

“That was sarcasm,” she said.

“Anyway, I hate to tell you this, but in today’s day and age, teenagers are not just hanging out at home waiting for you to arrive. They go out with friends. In fact, I’m not so sure teenagers in Haddonfield were really babysitting that much in 1978 on Halloween night, convenient as that might have been for the plot,” she said.

“I told you, everyone thinks Carpenter’s a genius. Me? Not so much. Hey! My pumpkin!” he said, and for a moment, he sounded like the 6 year old he might have been had he been given an actual speaking part in the first movie.

“Yeah, I decided to carve it this year,” Susan said, smiling.

“Speaking of Carpenter, why the heck would this tremendously important pumpkin have a mistake in it. I mean there’s a plain as day knife slash between the mouth and the nose,” she said.

“Well — I made it, and in case you haven’t realized, I’m a little ‘knife happy,’ as it were,” he said.

Susan actually laughed.

She grabbed the pumpkin off the patio.

“Here, I can’t give you your teenager but I can give you your pumpkin,” she said.

“Hey, thanks!” he said, balancing the pumpkin in his hands.

“I guess I’ll head out,” Michael said. “So…you said you had teenagers, any idea where they are right now? Just for curiosity purposes of course. No particular reason.”

“Miiichael,” she said, menacingly, “Don’t even think about it.”

He put his knife hand up in a mea culpa.

“Ok, ok! Sorry!” Michael said.

“So what else am I going to do tonight now,” he said, glumly.

“You could always go see Halloween Ends,” Susan said.

There was a beat of silence before the two of them started laughing.

“Even I don’t want to see that shit,” he said.

“Oh well, I guess I’ll head back where I came from. Maybe Jason will let me mooch off his next Friday the 13th. At least at summer camps there are always stupid teenagers,” Michael said.

“Good night Michael. Happy Halloween,” Susan said.

“Thanks for the beer! Nice to finally meet you,” he said.

As she watched him walk off, he pinged his Apple watch and she heard the gravelly voice of Freddy Krueger pick up.

“What up man! How’s your body count going?” he said.

“Eh, not great, which is why I was calling. Are there any teenagers in Jackson Hole?” Michael said.

“Yeah, man, tons. I think some of the Kardashians have a house nearby and I’m sure they have plenty of groupies outside,” Krueger said.

“Perfect, can you send your jet to pick me up? If there’s anyone I would enjoy killing truly it’s a Kardashian fan,” he said, as his voice faded into the Halloween night.