Trick or Treat

The ultimate kid's fun day is at hand---HALLOWEEN. It is when they can get dressed up in crazy or fancy or silly or scary costumes and go door-to-door scoring oodles of candy treats. It don't get no better than this when you are a kid. You wait till Mom and Dad (half-assed) go through your loot, sifting for needles or poison or an errant hit of Ecstasy that found its way into your Target plastic pumpkin. Once this is done, if you have cool parents, you eat candy till you want to puke. But usually you are so jacked up from all the sugar that you run in circles like a one-eyed pony after 5 venti Stabucks lattes.

Our neighborhood begins trick-or-treating at 4pm. I never recall heading out this early as a kid. I always started out on my candy quest when it was dark, with or without our parent chaperones. As a mom of younger kids, I now get it. It's light out, let's get this shit over with before we get snot-cicles hanging from our noses...or till the Captain Morgan and hot cider runs out from my "coffee" mug. Daddy takes the kids out for a block or two and Mommy hands out candy, then we switch. And don't even think of coming to my door without a costume. I will give you a steaming Pierre turd on toothpick if you think your Bears hoodie is festive enough. And that would be categorized as a TRICK.

One of my most memorable Halloweens to date happened about 3 years ago. Sophie was a unicorn and Isabella was a cheerleader that year. Glittery makeup and face paint were de rigeur. It was pretty chilly and as soon as the sun went down a faint drizzle began to sprinkle down on us. That made it freeze-yo-ass cold outside. We were getting weary from runny noses and frosty knuckles, though I was the one carrying 14 pounds of candy per pumpkin pail on each arm. I was OVER it. We decided to venture up the block a few more houses to say hi to our babysitter. About 10 houses up from ours, Sophie decided it was high time she had to go to the bathroom. And when a kid has to go, they have to go RIGHT NOW. I frantically looked around at the nearby homes. We were about 3 homes from our good friends' place so we decided to hit them up for a potty break. At the time their daughter was 2 so she wasn't really into the whole trick-or-treating experience. (Read: her parents were ready for all these dumb-ass older kids to stop ringing their doorbell so they could put her to bed.) We piped up and shouted "Trick-or-treat!!" as they opened the door with a smile. Their daughter was already in jammies and they were probably ready to turn the porch light off when the Ghahtani gang showed up. I mentioned in a hushed voice that Sophie really needed to use their potty if it wasn't too much trouble. "Not a problem," she assured me. Both kids blew past her, kicking their shoes off in the entryway as they entered their house. Nice touch, kids. Sophie hit the john and I waited. And waited. And waited. "Sophie, are you okay in there?" Then I smelled the nutty, rotten vegetable aroma wafting from beneath the door. I love it how she picks the most opportune moments in life to drop a steamer. By this point, Isabella is getting their daughter's toys out and making a big mess of dolls and tea sets in the living room. I am dying of embarrassment right now. Sophie beckons me to wipe her ass. It's a Triple-Wiper. I swear this child eats bamboo when I am not looking. For a child so skinny and bony, she is quite proficient in the waste depositing quotient, shall we say.. Now that Halloween Poopfest is done my kids are hungry, of course, and not for the candy in their pails. They both start whining and crying for a snack in my friends home. For the love of Christ do they have no shame?? Two bananas, some Goldfish crackers, and two fruit snacks later we are out of their house. I know we are now very high on their "Which Freak-Ass Neighbors Are We NOT Inviting to Our Dinner Party" list.

We wander next door to another familiar family's home. It is now raining pretty consistently and we are soggy. Sophie's unicorn horn is a limp sponge. We ring the doorbell with our "Trick-or-treat!" chant and can see the wife in the window. She has this dumb grin on her face and keeps looking out at us and then points over to the side of her porch.My daughters are standing there with three older boys, probably about 11 years-old or so. We notice a scarecrow-looking stuffed body on a chair with a bowl of candy in its crotch. Just as the kids go to grab a piece, of course, the jackass of all jackasses wakes up and screams at the kids as he lurches forward. My kids scream and begin to cry. A LOT. Fuck your candy offerings, you mother fucker. Could you not SEE out of your rubber mask that there were two little girls who, gee I don't know, are WAY TOO FUCKING YOUNG TO GET THEIR KICKS OUT OF A SCARY DEAD BODY COMING AT THEM IN THE FUCKING DARK!!!! Makeup streaming down faces, tears flowing rapidly, Halloween is officially DONE, thank you very much. I had planned on venturing further but Mr. Fucktard Scarypants had to ruin it for everyone. On a sidenote, this couple now has a two year-old daughter. Shall I re-enact the Carrie prom scene on my front porch for her? No because I have class.

Who knows what this Halloween will hold for us. I will not be leaving a bowl of delicious candy out for the posse of costume-less neighbor boys to hoard and toss the empty pail in my tree. These are the same kids who leave bags of dog shit on my neighbors porch, I suspect. And these will be the same kids who will someday earn their GED at 20 years-old and sit on the porch or their mom's house and scare the shit out of young kids. On second thought, maybe I WILL leave that bowl out and they can have at it with an array of Ex-Lax chocolate Snickers "surprises". We'll see who brags about that on the bus come Monday, dickwads. Happy Halloween!!!