Don't Laugh Too Hard on All Hallows' Eve

You can’t hide from them. Almost no one can. It's deep into October and that’s when the strange comes out. The trees aren’t even right. Their once lush green leaves have faded into those all too familiar shades of orange and yellow. That means any day now here in the U.S., gangs of costumed children will descend upon the streets demanding sweet packaged goods. To deny them this inalienable right would only bring conflict. The trick to their treat, if you will. 

I’m here to remind my brethren in arms to stay strong. To willingly give in to their savage sugar rush. Accept that once the clock reaches November 1st, it will all end swiftly without the need for confrontation. After all, most of us have lived through this. Sadly, that’s in the past now.

It was a glorious time, one that, unfortunately, couldn’t last forever. But man, it would be nice to put on that mask, just for old-time’s sake. I’m sure everyone’s had that itch. I’m sure some of you have even scratched it. Believe me, I’ve had my suspicions over the years. 

Every once in a while, you’ll get a kid knocking at the door who’s six feet tall, bragging about his crypto portfolio and sporting a mustache that definitely didn’t come from the Spirit Halloween collection. I have to refrain from asking for ID. 

Look, I get it. We all want to relive the past, but we’ve had our time. This is about the kids now. 

The six-foot, mustached Jack Sparrow wannabe wasn’t having any of that, though. He really wanted that fun-sized piece of nostalgia.

He broke character immediately. “Trick or Treat, man. Give me the goods.”

Behind him, there’s a woman impatiently sitting in a car. “Hurry up, babe. You said you were only going to do a few houses.”

I didn’t want any trouble. So I reached into my candy bowl and gave the man exactly what he was looking for. He muttered, ”Thanks, bro,” before heading back to the car. 

Little does he know that he’s been played. I crack a sinister smile as I re-enter the house. You see, the candy he thinks he has received is pretty much worthless. It’s the bottom of the barrel stuff. The kind of candy that’s been aging in that bowl like a chalky wine for a couple of spooky seasons. 

Ah, yes. It appears I got the last laugh. If only I could see the look on this man’s face when he finally realizes I got one over on him. Good riddance and Happy Halloween, sir.

In reality, things took an unforeseen turn. About thirty minutes later, there was another knock at the door. Only this time, there was no one there. All I was met with was flames. The whole front porch was engulfed. 

This brings us to the moral of the story. Never hand out candy corn. Your house might mysteriously be burned down.