Tuesday, October 20, 2009

What If No One Comes?

Did I mention we used to live in an unpleasant part of town?

I was very excited for my first Halloween in my first post-college apartment. After all, I loved Halloween as a child (and teenage and adult - fine I like to eat entire bags of snack sized Halloween candy and I always have. Are you happy now?), and the fun of going around to all one's neighbors demanding fat was something I very much wanted to participate in on the other side. I bought a startling amount of only the very best candy (anyone who gave out Mounds bars should have been sent straight to Gitmo): your Milky Ways, your Snickers bars, your Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. And I waited to make the night's of my neighbor kids.

And waited.

And waited.

Then, when all normal children would have been asleep, I celebrated Halloween by eating a fair chunk of that top-shelf candy.

The following year, I bought slightly less candy. And ate it myself.

After that, I didn't bother. Apparently, and not without cause, parents don't feel comfortable letting their children out unsupervised to receive items from other homes in a neighborhood where drugs are freely exchanged for legal tender. Also the neighbors have guns. So, thus far, in my adult life, I have never had trick or treaters.

And it really makes me sad.

Things will be changing.

As my neighbors put up their frankly astonishing assortment of front lawn Halloween decorations, I asked them for the inside scoop. How do I get trick or treaters to come to me? See, our house is not visible from the street and the driveway is a little hidden. We could be overlooked. He suggested a sign. I might have mentioned that it wouldn't be unwelcome if he told his trick or treaters that there was more candy to be had down the hill.

I'm thinking we'll do the following:

Set up our tiki torches going down the long driveway so people know we're home; carve pumpkins that seem inviting, perhaps with arrows indicating the way to where we are; put out a basket with empty candy wrappers and a sign that says the real stuff can be found down the hill. Wait, have I now ventured solidly into the realm of creepy?

This is the problem with being overly enthusiastic about things that concern children. Too much enthusiasm implies a "problem." Whereas, I simply want to do my part for Halloween (ok, except for the kids with peanut allergies. Sorry, guys, there is nothing I can do to make this holiday better for the genetically non-viable. Halloween candy has nuts - life has nuts. Toughen up!).

October 31 will find its way to me. I have creepy green nailpolish which will probably represent the bulk of my dressing up, and I will have the good candy, and lots of it. So if I complain of an inability to button my pants and a tummyache on November 1, you'll know why.

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