Trick-or-Treat!
I fucking love Halloween! I don’t love the scary part (ew)…it’s the fun part. The dressing up (which I didn’t actually get to do this year) and the little kids with their candy bags. Sitting on the sofa, I could hear them approaching the house in clumps…their little voices whispering to each other, “ring the bell, ring it!”. And then, once I appear with the candy, it’s that sing-song chorus of “trickertreat”. It’s really become one word at this point. I give one little robot type thing credit, however, he sang the whole song…”smell my feet, give me something good to eat”…I thought that was long dead.I had a couple friends hanging out with me tonight and the only real scares of the evening were a) when some kid showed up in the “Scream” mask…man I hate that thing, it gives me the creeps and b) when I ran out of Malibu, damn it. We had to switch to vodka. We did have enough candy, though, thanks to them bringing some reserves…so there was no repeat of the Halloween scene, lo some many years ago. Picture this…
I’m probably 22. My friend Amy, from work, and I had convinced this poor sucker (Dave) to let us hold a party at his parent’s house. (“We’ll do everything, we promise, just let us use your house, Dave!”) And he did….dumb ass. Anyway…
I’m living in an apartment building in Baltimore and I know that I have just enough time after work to run to the liquor store, get home, get my costume stuff together and get the hell out the door in time to set things up for the party.
I have no candy because I know that I won’t be home that night. I have no money because I just spent the last dollar in my pocket on booze….which, really, is what it should be spent on. I’m grabbing my stuff, getting my costume together, almost out the door and fuck….someone knocks on the door. And I know that whoever it is has heard me already. There it is…”TRICKERTREAT!!!!” Shit.
I open the door. Oh hell…it’s not even a teenager….this kid is, at most, 7. I cannot, for the life of me, remember what he was dressed like but I do recall his mother lurking down the hallway as a pseudo chaperone. I appeal to the kid’s reasonable side.
“Hey, I'm sorry, I don’t have any candy. I’m leaving in a couple minutes.” I think I even titled my head to the side a little as I said it.
Blank stare.
“If I had any, you could have it all. Really.”
Blank stare.
“And I don’t have any money on me either.”
The mouth turns into a scowl. Stupid dumb woman, I can hear him think, doesn’t she know it’s Halloween? She’s got candy, she’s holding out on me. Bitch. (Okay, the 7 year olds back then probably didn’t actually think that…but that’s how it felt.)
“Hang on.”
I scurry back inside, the door sort of propped open so he knows I’m attempting to find something. I got nothing. Into the kitchen I go, flinging cabinet doors open and looking for something sweet and vacuum sealed for safety. Nada. Finally, in desperation and knowing I need to leave, I grab a can, any can. As I fly back to the door, the site of a green bean catches my eye on the label.
“Here.” I say as I unceremoniously dump the can into his bag. “Sorry.” I let the door slam shut, get the rest of my stuff together and then peer out the windows until I see them go into another building. Then I haul ass outta there before someone else shows up. In my defense, I think this kid started too early.
I’m still surprised that I didn’t come home to a broken window and a can of green beans on the living room floor. Trickertreat, indeed.
posted by Cherry Indigo (Cindy) @ 10/31/2005 10:58:00 PM
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