This was my first year dealing with trick-or-treaters, as previously I had either been traveling or living in a junkie-infested tenement where opening the door for people in masks wasn’t exactly a good idea. So, this was my first Halloween since I was a child that involved trick-or-treating, and like most old men, I like to sit on my porch with a spittoon and complain about, “Kids these days.” But, honestly, kids these goddamn days. When I was a kid, there were RULES. We lived in a CIVILIZATION. You walked up to a house, you said, “Trick or treat” and then you held out your bag. Like a civilized human, not like the animals in costumes that approached my door. Not like the tiny bee that terrorized my home. Halloween has gone from a respected tradition, to The Purge starring toddlers.
My first trick or treater was an adorable little kid dressed like Iron Man who ran up to my door and just shouted, “CANDY” at the top of his lungs. It was less like a request and more like he was being chased by Candy and he wished to warn the villagers. This was soon followed up by two sisters, one in an angel costume and one in the same exact goddamn costume but it was all black. So, being the friendly recent victim of Iron Man that I am, I said, “So you’re an angel and… an evil angel.” The black angel then says, “That’s not a thing, I’m a vampire” and then just held out her bag. FIRST OF ALL, she didn’t have fangs, ya little half-ass vampire. SECOND OF ALL, angels aren’t a thing either and you’ll never be with your pets in heaven. I didn’t put on a cowboy hat and buy $9.99 worth of Kit-Kats to be treated like this. But then came the worst of the bunch.
Out of the darkness emerged the worst Halloween monster of all. As a friendly neighbor and poor identifier of vampires, I had my door open so that the doorbell wouldn’t bother my dogs. My one dog is very small and very sweet, and she greeted all of the trick or treaters through a little baby-gate in her costume. How adorable. Until the monster appeared. Running at full speed, some ridiculous little 3 year old bee sprints at my dog, punches it in the nose and screams, “DOG.” Then she just drops her bag of candy, sits down next to it, and looks at me. THE GALL. You think just because you’re three years old and a bee you can assault animals and throw candy bags at people? Truly a born criminal beyond salvation. I still gave her some Kit-Kats, and she happily picked up her bag. But, before she left – and I wish I was kidding – she made sure to reach through the gate again with a Muhammad Ali-esque wind-up, and punch my dog again. I hate Halloween.