The Do-Over

The buttermilk was thick and sour, just the way Robert liked it before bed.

He drained the last chunk from his plastic glass and stood up from the kitchen table with a groan. He shuffled a couple steps toward the sink but stopped when the back porch light flashed on.

“Lousy cat!” Robert grumbled. The motion sensor had been Ingrid’s idea.

Robert rinsed the glass and turned it upside-down on the counter, then headed toward the stairs. Before he even got to the hallway, someone knocked on the back door.

“Rrrrrr,” Robert growled. He didn’t like visitors, especially not ones who showed up unannounced at night. He pivoted toward the racket and caught a glimpse of the calendar.

October 31st.

Robert scowled and stomped through the kitchen, then threw open the back door.

“Listen here, you little…” but he stopped short. The back porch was empty. The night was silent.

Robert squinted and stepped out onto the stoop. “Listen here,” he called into the blackness. “I better not catch your little brats snooping around here again, Halloween or not!”

The door slammed shut behind him, and Robert whirled toward his house.

But Robert wasn’t on his back porch at all. Instead, he stood in front of a white house with green shutters. The front door swung open, and a woman wearing an apron stepped out and smiled. She held a bowl of candy.

For a moment, Robert and the lady just stared at each other, until she finally giggled.

“Well, silly, aren’t you supposed to say, ‘trick or treat!’ or something?”

Robert just blinked, staring up at the lady, who was a couple heads taller than him.

“Say,” the woman said. “That's a pretty neat old man mask you have there. Where’d you get it?”