Introduction: The following story is a true one. Happening more than ten years ago, those in my family have retold it over and over. I've changed it somewhat (author's prerogative, don'tcha know?) and have updated it slightly, but the basic bits remain the same. Most of you have already read it, so if you want to give it a pass, I won't tell anyone (mostly because I'll never know). But, if you haven't read it, why not do so now? There's a fun-size Snickers in it for you*.
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| "'Updated it slightly'? Eff, I know what that means! COME ON MAN!" |
A Halloween Tale
The young wife pulled her sweater
tight. Starting to get cold,
she thought.
Looking down at the half empty candy jar,
she was relieved she’d bought just enough goodies for the hordes of
trick-or-treaters which continued to rampage through her neighborhood.
With only an hour to go, she breathed a
sigh of relief, confident she wouldn’t have to break into last year’s stash of
petrified candy corn. Or worse, ketchup
packets (somehow, she just knew the kids wouldn’t buy her story that ketchup
was “nature’s candy.”).
So, her house was safe from the ravages
wrought by pint-sized wrecking crews denied their sugar fixes.
With a break in the action, she picked up a
“Fun-Size” Snickers bar-no, make that TWO fun-size Snickers bars (more fun that
way) and plopped in a chair set by her open door.
No sooner had she sat down then she saw four
miniature super heroes-Batman, Spiderman, and the unfortunately-named Captain
Continence and his sidekick, Mr. President-come trooping down her driveway.
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| "I knew it! Drop a load in your britches in the Vatican just once and they never leave you alone!" |
Hiding the empty candy wrappers, she stood to greet her visitors, who looked harmless enough (although, you never could be too sure-especially with that Biden one).
Greeted by a chorus of cheery “Trick or
Treats,” she smiled and extended the candy jar to the tiny defenders of truth,
justice, the American way, and proper hygiene.
Their needs sated, the little heroes scampered
towards her neighbor. Thankful her house
continued to be spared, she noticed a lone figure standing at the end of her
driveway.
Fairly large, she figured that he-or
she-was one of those kids from the junior high who refused to let go of their
youth. Usually, they just grabbed a
pillowcase off their bed and headed door-to-door, their menace masked only by a
surly, “I’m an egg-thrower” when asked what their costume was.
This kid was dressed up, though, although
it gave her the willies. He was dressed
in blue jeans and a red flannel shirt, all innocuous enough. But what creeped her out was that hockey mask
and-was that a knife in his right hand?
He looked like that...Freddy? Michael? No, he looked like Jason! Yeeks!
“Hi, young man, do you want some candy?” She timidly held out her candy jar to the motionless figure.
No answer.
Hmm, she thought, not too crazy about
this. I’d rather he’d just toss toilet
paper in my trees and be done with it.
She closed her door, desperately trying to
figure out what to do.
At that moment, her husband’s car pulled
into the driveway.
“Oh, great,” he thought as he parked, “one
of those trick-or-treaters. Hmmm, kinda
big, though.”
He got out of his car and cheerfully called
out to the kid, “Hey, howzit goin’?”
Still nothing.
“That’s weird,” he thought.
Quickly turning his back, he stepped
through his side-door and saw his wife, who looked a little freaked-out. “Hey, you see that nut out there? What’s going on?”
She shrugged her shoulders and replied,
“You got me. He’s just been standing
there. Uh...did you see if he had a
knife or something?”
His eyes went wide and he stepped to the
closed door. Peering through the
curtains, he said, “Yeah, sure looks like one.
I don’t like this. I’m turning
off the porch light.”
Casting the porch in darkness, the two
gathered at their curtains and peered at the still motionless form bathed in
the light of the streetlamp.
“Maybe he’ll get the idea we’re done for
the night,” she hoped.
“Yeah, I-hey! He’s starting to walk this
way!”
His wife shrieked and dropped to the
kitchen floor. “Oh, my God! What’re we going to do!?”
He joined her and squealed, “I don’t
know. I’d better call the cops!”
Now, they heard shuffling footsteps as
their visitor scraped along the loose rocks of their driveway.
Starting to lose it, she begged, “No, don’t
leave me!” She put her hands to her
ears.
The husband scrambled over to the kitchen
island. Maybe, he’ll find a knife
or....ladle!!?? That won’t do! He kept rifling through the drawer. Cheese grater...potato peeler... garlic
press...ah, here was a knife!
As he turned toward his wife, he heard the
footsteps suddenly stop.
And, the doorbell ring.
The two of them inched their way to the
window and, on their knees, peeked through the bottom of the curtain.
They saw the hockey mask bouncing up and
down in laughter.
Standing bolt upright, the husband flung
open the door, and shouted, “You idiot!
You gave us both heart attacks!”
