I'm not really a fluffy bunny, nor do I have any intention of pursuing said career path in the foreseeable future. For those who don't know, the phrase "I'm a fluffy bunny" is the 'safe word(s)' for at least one popular litigation fuel haunted house attractions where the scare actors are allowed to touch/grab/relocate you into various horrible settings.
This October has been a rough one. Our bank account got hacked at the beginning of the month, followed a week later by my car's inability to shift into any gears except third and fourth; meaning no interstate, no reverse, and every stoplight on the way to the mechanic was an exercise in spreading out of profanity. And then we lost the internet for a few days, which is enough to drive you into the arms of the primal monster within.
So it's been a bit of a mad dash to get into the Halloween spirit in the final week, but fortunately my job offered me the glorious opportunity to work three kid's events in a row. Needless to say (since I'm writing it instead) I will not be at the house for trick-or-treating this evening. Alternately, I will be running, screaming, hiding, and possibly be curling up into a ball as the mood strikes me while praying for the release of something less stressful; like nanowrimo.
But before I place my blog in bed and let it drift off to the nightmares that await it, I wanted to offer up some useful trick-or-treating tips that will hopefully make tonight's proceedings go smoother for those of you rooted in tradition.
1. The rules of trick-or-treating are a lie. You don't have to say "Trick or treat" to receive candy. The stranger whose sanctuary you're invading wants you to leave immediately. If you're carrying around one of those plastic pumpkin containers with an opening the size of a basketball hoop, the adult in question will likely have pitched in a box of nerds from the earliest comfortable distance.
2. Hold your bag open. And up. Remember, you want this encounter, the adult doesn't. Those Kit Kats would be all mine if not for you. Don't make me do all the work on top of it.
3. Don't try to be funny. Comedy is a sophisticated art form that requires years of failure to even scratch the surface of comprehension, much less master. You're a child. You know at most three pirate jokes related to your costume, and I've heard them before. There's nothing more unpleasant than having to fake laughter at a dying punch line, and the adult hates you enough already.
4. It's all the same processed sugar. You wanted the pink Starburst, but Stephanie got it, leaving you with the orange one. That's a tragedy, isn't it? You could try to learn the game of negotiation with Stephanie if it matters that much to you, or you could also consider the reality that your lack of pink Starburst is not quite as devastating as, say, losing access to your bank account, car, and internet all at the same time. And, no. You don't get to fish around in my bowl yourself.
5. There's no need to say thank you. I know you want to teach your children good manners, but I can see their delight as they greedily scurry off to their next victim, and that's enough gratitude for me. When you make them return to me, feeding them their only-important-to-you line of dialogue that's going to take them multiple provocations to utter, it makes the encounter twice as long. My Stepford smile takes energy, and I had to work today.
6. Never have kids.
7. Adults can trick-or-treat as well. I don't know who made the rule that twelve is the cut off age, but they can stuff it. The adult world is miserable, and any temporary release from our collective sorrow is a welcomed change. We need Halloween more than you do, and I'm not opposed to inserting a secondary Halloween in April to get us through tax season.
8. I'm Sam-I-Am. How do you not know this character? Green Eggs and Ham is a fairly popular book. I'm not a chicken, or Big Bird, or a witch, or a fire truck man (???). I'm also not the Cat in the Hat (how did you get that close and still screw it up?). If you don't know, you can ask. I don't mind waiting until your back is turned to seethe under my breath.
9. And lastly, but not leastly... Halloween is the one time of the year where we get to admit how truly horrible we all are. Even the concept or trick-or-treating is based around the threat of pushing a local resident closer to their breaking point if they don't comply with your demands. So tonight if you find yourself glowering at someone who deserves it and feel a twinge of remorse for shattering societal norms, I encourage you to get over it. You're only participating on one of our grandest traditions.
Happy Halloween!
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