Last night was Halloween. Clearly. I don't know if you knew that or not.
So, since I don't actually HAVE trick-or-treaters at my Temporary Place of Residence, and my friend, The New Home Owner, is afraid of the dark and also of small persons with two legs wearing costumes, I accompanied her in the Passing Out Of Candy on her New Porch.
There we sat, bowl of candy in lap, handing candy to tiny Halloween Revelers. We saw pumpkin children, unicorn children, princess children, and the random teenager who thought that heading out the door with their older brother's hand-me-downs and a backpack full of candy constituted a trick-or-treater. Halloween isn't a free for all, punk. Where's your costume? Exactly. Ask your mom to put out the cigarette, pour out the bottle of booze and go to Walgreens to buy you your own candy. Or a Halloween costume.
He actually said, "trick or treat?" Well, gosh, I don't know, peculiar 14-year-old boy with no costume, how about, "NO."
And then, you know, there were more cowboy children and witch children and bumblebee children.
The point of my story IS, there were children everywhere. Bustling about, all Halloween-like. It's a fairly calm neighborhood, not a lot of traffic. However, I found myself, with each passing car, cringing in horror. These words actually came out of my mouth:
"Jesus Christ. Slow down! There are children!"
Wait, what? I SAID that? WHO am I, and what happened to the Person Who Formerly, Like, Five Paragraphs Ago, Made Fun Of A Poor Teenager?
I want her back. Or I at least want one of those cute bumblebee children.