Below, a Halloween story courtesy of Melissa Shelter of Dysfunctional Family Jazz Band.  Enjoy!

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Our family loves the holidays, but like most families it can get complicated. My dad’s family will be having Christmas or Thanksgiving a few thousand miles from my mom, and in making choice there are inevitably hurt feelings along the way. But enter Halloween and our family takes full advantage of the opportunity to bring it all back together again. Is it that we all love the candy? The annual overdose on Root Beer flavored dum dums? Mini Kit Kats?  My disdain for candy corn that causes my father to question our biological link?  Could these be the bonding forces? Perhaps, but more likely it’s the fun of putting on costumes and dusting off some great tunes.

Every year we get together and play a Dysfunctional Family Halloween gig. Last year we were at the Brazen Head bar in Brooklyn and this year we will be at New York’ s favorite honky-tonk, the Rodeo Bar crooning some great Halloween songs like“ That Old Black Magic,”  “ I Put a Spell On You,” “ Werewolves of London,” “ Old Devil Moon,” “Witchcraft” – ok you get the idea.

After the witching hour has struck you may be invited to the post-gig hang. You drive to the far end of Red Hook, Brooklyn named for its red soil and hook shaped peninsular land, follow the cobblestone road, and that’ s when you realize; you are definitely not in Kansas anymore. Yes, Dorothy has sung “ Somewhere Over the Rainbow” to lure you in and the Skeleton Father will greet you in his most affected of Russian accent to say “ You come, you drink, you stay!” and come they do. You climb four flights past a howling black dog, who may remind you of Cerberus (who guarded Hades in the underworld). Don’ t worry though, she’ s just saying hello. The festivities continue until dawn.

By the end of the night Hunter S. Thompson is sleeping in the closet. The skeleton father – bio-dad – has passed out on a blow up mattress at the foot of the bed. But when he begins to snore so loudly his bones rattle the fedora-wearing Irish immigrant husband (who is lucky enough to have TWO fathers-in-law) has had enough of the noise and places a well-shined wing tip into his side to quiet him. The stepfather cowers in fear of becoming the next victim and grabs for his wife, but discovers nothing but a red feather boa and some horns, at which point he realizes he has laid down with the devil. Dorothy clicks her heels and chants “ There’ s no place like home” in the hopes of escaping this
strange Oz, only to realize she is quite at home.

In the morning bio-dad and stepfather are already at the kitchen table singing songs over the speakerphone to the stepmother who wisely stayed home. Mom made the coffee, the little brother made it off the closet floor, the husband is still in wing tips, and the daughter has slipped off her ruby slippers. Back to “ Normal.”

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