Trick? or Treat?

Trick? Or Treat?

It is a question, you know. Trick or treat? Well, dear children, my answer is…trick! Everybody has a treat for you these days, and that can’t be good. Treat after treat after treat after treat! Not only will your teeth rot, but you’ll trust everybody to be good to you. That isn’t the way of the world, dear children, and you’d best find that out while you’re still young, because no one will help you when you’re old.

Too gloomy, you say, dear reader. Too “in-your-face?” Where else will they learn that childhood does not last forever, that responsibilities come with adulthood? Not at home, not at home, no they won’t learn it there.

Here comes a little devil to my doorstep now. How are thee, little devil? Dost thou want a trick? “No” you say? Did you say “No?” Too bad, you innocent little devil. (How can I say innocent and devil too? I know he knows not what he does, but that it does not come from love.) “All right, you devil, do your worst. I haven’t any candy, only apples. Didn’t the last batch of gimbally goblins tell you that? “

The little devil takes his pronged tail and sticks me in the knee. Yikes, it’s a stun gun! What the ___? I’m down. Well that will never be. I’m writhing on the floor while he laughs. I grab his apple out of his hand and throw it, not at him but down the walk. He laughs again. “Who wants your apple anyway?” he yells. My dog, Mounty, roars after it, knocking him flat. I laugh and cackle, trying to get up and regain the upper hand. “Have some eyeballs, chum!” I say, pointing to the sack I’ve dropped on the floor. “Or innards. Guts, if you prefer. They’re over there.” I point to another sack.

The devil reaches in…and feels…and into the next bag…and feels…and hurls all over my floor! Now that’s a trick par excellance! The poor boy is gagging, and I go to pick him up and comfort him. “See, see, it’s only grapes, peeled. It’s only cooked spaghetti. Don’t be afraid. It’s all right.”

He draws himself up, and laughs, and crows, “It’s only blender vomit! I made it at home with yogurt and oatmeal and tomato sauce and leftovers. Isn’t it gross!”

I am about to laugh in spite of myself, despite my intu-witch-in that I must not let this little devil win. Ah, Mounty to my rescue! He knocks this tricker down again and stands on him with one big paw, while lapping up the leftovers from floor and devil's face. And then, the piece de resistance, the tricker's bag of treats!

Up, then, ye little devil; run! Go and spread it to your friends: this is the place for tricks!