Our little Hotterville has Trick or Treat on the Saturday afternoon before Halloween. That's how it's been since like 1970 or something, which would be the last year I actually participated as a....participant.
Every year I buy like 8-10 bags of candy and then the following Monday morning, after eating an entire bag myself over the course of Trick or Treat weekend, I take at least three bags to work, just to get it out of my house.
It was chilly and drizzly when I went to get my hair cut at 10am yesterday, and it was supposed to be chilly and drizzly all day, so in an effort not to enable an all day candy eating binge for myself, I brought six bags of candy to the check out at the grocery store....and in a bold (and it turns out ridiculous) move, I put two back and came home with four. Because I'm an @ss.
After the first HALF HOUR of Trick or Treat, I had 15 pieces of candy left. It started sprinkling and I thought, OK...no more handing out candy on the porch...I'll go inside and the first 15 kids to knock on the door get this.
The trouble is when one kid comes up on to the porch and knocks, thirty other kids in the neighbors yards see you giving out candy and then they swarm. Until you're standing on your front porch with an empty bowl, shouting, I'M SORRY BUT I'M OUT OF CANDY. And still the bumblebees and ladybugs come up your steps on their tiny and unsteady little legs. Even the big Frankensteins and Transformers come marching, stiff-legged and holding out their pillowcases.
I had to quit answering my door. I felt like I was trapped in Shaun Of The Dead, a truly humbling experience.
And next year? F*ck it. I'm buying a hundred bucks worth of candy and let the chips fall where they may.
My co-workers will love me.
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