Swamp Rabbit was concerned about my mental health. He had decorated the front of his shack with jack-‘o-lanterns and plastic tombstones and so on, and he was wondering why my shack looked so dark and uninviting.

“You need some skeletons and bats and maybe a curbside Freddy Krueger,” he said. “Here, have some of these.”

We were standing on his sagging front porch. He reached into a plastic cauldron and tried to present me with a handful of candy corn.

“Get that shit away from me,” I said. “I’ve got my own way of celebrating holidays. You should check out my annual Halloween playlist. No repeats from last year.”

I showed him the list of songs on my phone and he scowled. “Halloween is supposed to be fun. These songs are too scary. Most of them ain’t even Halloween songs. The peeps will think you really believe in spooks and monsters.”

“I’m like the Cowardly Lion,” I said. “I do believe in spooks. Monsters, too. How can you live in this world and not believe in spooks?”