Ride 'Em Horsewigs!

As kids, my brother and I spent a lot of time using our imaginations to keep us entertained.  This was due, in equal parts, to a lack of family funding, a love for the fantastic, over active creativity glands, popular culture, being kids, and also being a little (or a lot) bat-shit crazy.

We loved the Ninja Turtles, so we spent mornings fighting each other in the living room while our parents slept peacefully at the end of the hallway despite our loud hi-yahs, our jump kicks from the sofa, and our bodies hitting the ground full force in the way that only kids can survive.

Once we grew bored with the Ninja Turtles (you can only play as Leonardo and Donatello so many times) we started developing our own superheroes, which for me, admittedly, usually ended up being large, humanoid versions of my favorite animals.  I had heroes like Komodo Dragon, Echidna, and Flying Fox.  

My brother tended towards elongating his name: Super Josh, Super Mega Josh, Super Mega Ultra Josh (I went trick or treating one year as “Super Mega Rob”, it was not easy to explain what I was to each household we stopped at). Or he would come up with some kind of name out of nowhere (we both ended up being guilty of this) like Sinochastras (mine was Alerque).

After seeing Jurassic Park we used to go outside into the wooded lot behind our apartment complex and pretend that we were just two people against attacking velociraptors, dilophosaurs, and tyrannosaurs.  This was particularly entertaining in the snow.  We would migrate out of the woods and use snow plowed into ten foot piles to throw ourselves over the fence that separated Creekview Apartments from the seemingly more upscale apartment complex next door, all the while pretending that we were being chased by vicious man eating pseudo birds. 

I have to say, though, that the craziest thing that ever came out of our broken little minds were the Horsewigs.  Horsewigs, by our understanding (because we made them up), were giant, slug-like creatures with no eyes, very little sense of direction, and an insatiable appetite for people’s ankles. 

Playing as Horsewigs required each participant to climb head first into their sleeping bag (Ninja Turtle sleeping bags where my brother and I were concerned), rear up onto their knees, shout “Ride ‘Em Horsewigs”, and commence squinching (which is the only word I think describes the movement) around the house bumping into things, grabbing the cat, and attacking people’s ankles.

We almost never pulled out our superhero forms when company came around.  Our grandmothers never saw Super Mega M.A.J. fight it out against Raptor Rob and friends of our parents never saw Sinochastras take a hit from Golden Eagle without flinching (an infuriating thing my brother used to do was claim that most of his heroes “didn’t show pain”).  We didn’t make the same concessions where Horsewigs were involved, because we couldn’t see much more than shadows while in our Horsewig forms, so embarrassment was kept at bay and our secret identities were secure.

Ride ‘Em Horsewigs was, by far, one of our favorite activities while we lived at Creekview Apartments, and it was also the reason why our sleeping bags ended up paper thin when we never, ever went camping in them.  Nothing else compared to the sensory depravation that allowed us to imagine our own world where the Horsewigs roamed free, unbound by bed time, dinner time, bath time, or any other time.  As we grew older, and taller, we stopped crawling into our sleeping bags the wrong way and, sadly, used them for their intended purpose.  But sometimes, when a strange wind blows, I can hear the cry of “Ride ‘Em Horsewigs!” and my heart yearns for adventure.