For the record, Willow had vowed not to go trick-or-treating that year—or ever again, for that matter. And I hadn’t gone since I was eleven, out of some skewed sense of maturity and/or masculine responsibility. It wasn’t unwarranted. The last time I went, I was the victim of an insidious form of prejudice known as You’re a Bit Old to Be Trick-or-Treating, Aren’t You? It wasn’t always spoken, but it was always conveyed. You could see the disappointment in the eyes of some old dude, expecting toddlers dressed as cupcakes, or princesses, or the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, and instead getting this lanky impostor dressed as the purple ninja turtle. To be fair, I was a smidge tall for my age—at least a solid foot taller than my trick-or-treating companions, Holden (dressed as the red turtle, Raphael) and Willow (April O’Neil). Everyone thought they were fucking adorable. I mean, they were—but still!

The injustice of it was infuriating and humiliating and dehumanizing.

But the Edward Scissorhands year was different. That year, my costume filled me with power. Willow and I were high on the spirit of Halloween, and we talked each other into it.

It was amazing.

Even though we were starting late, catching the tail end of acceptable trick-or-treating hours, the people loved us. All of them. Every. Single. Door. Not only did I not get the stink eye—not once—but they praised me! Hailed me as some sort of All Hallows’ Eve hero.

The costume didn’t just make me feel powerful. The costume, itself, was power.

As we walked home, bags heavy with candy, my mind was reeling. Churning over the events of the evening. Processing what had just happened.

People thought I was cool.

People liked me.

When was the last time I was liked? I couldn’t even remember. Maybe I was never liked. Not like this.

I had an idea.

“Do you want to make a video?” I asked Willow.

“A video?” she said. “What kind of video?”

I could tell by the way she asked, she was already in.

The idea was this: Edward Scissorhands Gives Lydia Deetz a Haircut. (That was literally the title of the video when I posted it to YouTube.) Here’s how it went:

Lydia sits in a chair in the kitchen. Edward, meanwhile, fumbles to put a disposable hair-cutting cape (one of Mom’s) around her neck with his scissorhands. By the time he finishes, the cape is mostly in shreds, but nevertheless, successfully wrapped around Lydia’s neck.

Cut to Edward standing over the Gothic architecture that is Lydia’s hair.

Edward proceeds to hack away like a poetic maniac. All we see is Edward—close up—and chunks of black hair spewing from the source like volcanic ash. (Mom sacrificed her Morticia wig for the cause.)

Edward finishes.