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Alright, kids, I know what you’re thinking. I know what you’re planning. I know what’s in the cards. And you know what? I don’t like it.
Listen, Halloween is great. Great holiday for all ages. Obviously, for little kids, there’s nothing more exciting than trick-or-treating. In college, it can be the most wonderfully degenerate night of the year. Even as an adult Halloween still has its merits.
However, Halloween turns teenagers from the little shits they already are to absolute psychopaths. I’m not sure what it is about October 31st, but good lord, it makes the local 12 to 15-year-old population of any neighborhood morph into a juvenile cast of The Purge.
Come Halloween I’ll be rolling into my 4th go-around in this hood, and this year, I’m not taking an ounce of shit from those kids.
Now I’ve been around the block a time or two. I was 13-years-old once and quite the little scumbag in my day. I’ve seen and done things, terrible things. There’s nothing these kids can throw at me that would shock me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to roll over and take it.
Personally I think they, teenagers who suck at everything, and I, a washed up dad, can co-exist in peace this year. I’m not going to be the stiff, like my old neighbor across the street. You little shits want to smash some pumpkins? Hell, as soon as I turn my light off the night of the 31st, feel free to take my pumpkin off the porch and Gronk spike the thing in the street.
When I say the night of the 31st, I mean the night of the 31st. When I say the street, I mean the street. You damn well know none of these kids don’t understand the raw strength and endurance it takes to properly carve a pumpkin. You put in work to be ready for gameday on Halloween, and some little scumbag isn’t going to ruin it for me.
These damn kids better not desecrate the jack-o-lantern shining proudly on my porch only for some punk who’s failing pre-algebra to take some time off from practicing unhooking bra straps to destroy my hard work. Not to mention that aforementioned punk would probably smash the damn thing in my driveway, adding the insult of having to clean the thing up to my fury of having my pumpkin destroyed. I won’t stand for it.
Let’s talk about the main event of the night, trick-or-treating. First and foremost, these idiots are too old to be out soliciting free candy anyways. Get a paper route and go pick up a bag at Walmart, you degenerates. But regardless, they’ll be out reaping the benefits of everyone else working hard to buy their acne littered faces some Tootsie Rolls. I’m not turning away these slimy creatures, but I certainly won’t be putting up with any fuckery on their parts when it comes to candy handouts either.
I’m a put out the bowl guy. During prime trick-or-treat hours, I’m out making the rounds with my own kid, and once I’m back I just want to sit on my couch and watch TV in peace, not jump up to dish out two pieces of diabetes every time someone comes to my door. The bowl is out there for the taking, and I’m perfectly fine with some asshole Power Ranger or Eleven from Stranger Things dumping the whole thing in his/her pillowcase. Toughest kid gets the candy as far as I’m concerned.
Let’s also talk about the etiquette I expect from these snotty kids. As I noted previously I’m not sitting outside or getting my ass to the door to take a look at everyone’s costumes to make comments. You won’t be getting a “Oh you look so cute!” or a “Wow, how scary!” from this guy; if I see a costume I approve of on my rounds you’ll get a curt head nod at best. But that being said, I didn’t shell out $10+ bucks for premium candy (because I ain’t no Halloween candy scrub) just for some tween fuckboy to roll up in a sweatshirt and a ‘Scream’ mask to load up on all my Twix. Have some dignity for the craft.
If I see too much of that riff-raff strolling around I’ll yank that bowl off the porch like Halloween Scrooge and pack it in early. Same with catching anyone putting a toe on the lawn that I’ve put blood, sweat and tears into; the pathway is there for a reason. You harm my dark green zoysia blades, and I’ll snatch that candy back faster than you can say “Wow that old man is really an unreasonable asshole, let’s light some dog shit on fire on his porch later tonight.” It’s called mutual respect children.
Once that bowl is empty, I’m out. Fuck it, light off. Sure, there’s some candy still inside, but that’s for my fatass. If that porch light is off, you older kids still better stay the hell away from my doorbell. Any disrespectful bastard knocking on my door once that bowl is removed is getting nothing except the printout of the Wikipedia page on diabetes and color images of someone doing dialysis.
For the true McAssholes, the ones who think it’s a better idea to target my house than go share the half-smoked cigarette they found on the playground or split a warm Miller Lite they swiped from a drunk adult on the porch, don’t you even think about ding-dong ditching me. If you don’t think I’ll be up all night with a manic sugar high like I’m Ray Liotta at the end of Goodfellas then you must not know who you’re dealing with. Take that shit to the seniors down the street who go to bed at nine.
Statistically speaking, I’m in my athletic prime, and if you don’t think I’d abandon my toddler son alone in the house to chase after a 13-year-old who decided to try to tempt fate with a late night doorbell ring in order to serve justice, well you don’t know me at all. You try to pull a fast one on me come October 31st, you better know I’m coming for you, and hell’s coming with me. .