I bought these all for you. Oh, and I arranged them just-so, just as you see here!
And I waited for hours, right inside the door. I was so sure you’d come. I even put that funny little plastic skull with the flashing light on the porch, right next to the jack o’ lantern I carved from a pumpkin I bought at the store. I gave him a friendly face – I didn’t want any of you to be scared. If only you had come!
You could have had anything you wanted up there. A (fun size) Milky Way, a Snickers (fun size)? Yours for the taking! A Nestlé’s $100 Grand bar, in convenient fun size size? You needed only reach for it. There were eight Three Musketeers, each in a small, fun, fun size. That’s twenty-four musketeers, total. You could have had any one of them, in multiples of three. Perhaps you’d have liked a baby Baby Ruth? Take two, they’re fun size.
But no one came. Why not? Each day, I see you playing outside, up and down the street…but never…never in front of my house. That but one of you had walked up these front steps, rang the bell, knocked on the door, rapped on the window, or just called out “Trick or Treat” from the walk – oh the delights you’d have gotten! And it wasn’t just the candies, oh no; I also had a roll of pennies for your Unicef boxes! I spent all afternoon polishing them until each one was as bright and shiny as the day it was minted!
Why are you so afraid? Are there stories about me? Do people talk about me? Do they say…things?
I hope not. I just want to be your friend is all. And if any of you change your mind, all this delicious candy will be in the knothole of the old oak tree along the sidewalk in front of my house.
Well, the wrappers will be, anyway, you little assholes.