Friday, October 31, 2008

Answer: 7 lbs. of candy was NOT enough!

So, 7 lbs. of candy was NOT enough to satisfy the tiny teeth of our neighborhood ghouls and ghosts (and Jasons, and Batmans, and Hannah Montanas, and Spider-Mans (both red and black), and zombies, and bananas, and dinosaurs, and Darth Vaders, and "ganstas," and Oprah Winfreys (yup, we had an Oprah), and pathetic adults, and everything else we saw in the flurry that was the evening). 

By 7 p.m., we had practically run out.

Time to break out the leftover soup, I thought.

However, the Professor was against this idea. She didn't even let me hand out ice cubes. Instead, she told me to buy more candy.

I made my way to CVS, conveniently located a short walk from our apartment. And, at this particular CVS, judging by the way customers inside were acting, one would have to gather that candy factories must have called it quits and shut down for good. Otherwise, the insanity of people grabbing for bags and shouting about prices wouldn't have made much sense. 

Seriously, you'd think that there were Nintendo Wiis and a day-after-Thanksgiving sale going on inside.

I was lucky to get out alive, I tell you. Granted, I did have to use an older lady as a human shield for a moment, but, really, it was her or me.

I made it back just in time, as the Professor was about to hand out the last of our supply. 

I handed over two new big bags. Plenty for the rest of the evening. No more candy after this, I declared.

Twenty minutes later, we were tapped out again. 

The worst of it was that the tiniest little girl was the last kid to not get anything from us. The rest of her group cleaned us out. And none of the bigger kids thought to give her their piece.

Rotten kids.

10+ pounds of candy. Gone. A little over 2 hours.

And, once we were out, we knew we had to act fast. It was like a horror movie. The monsters were fast approaching. They were hungry. Acting as quickly as possible, we blew out our spooky candles, killed the porch light and locked the front door. We ducked into the back rooms of the apartment and kept the front dark.

I think they've all left now.

Wait! What's that?

I swear I heard fingernails against our door just now. Creepy little kids voices!

Oh no! They're breaking through the glass!

I hear them scampering through the front rooms!

Please, little Princesses! I have no more candy! You should have come earlier!

Their eyes! They're possessed!

This may be it! I may be done for! Hopefully they'll be kind enough to publish this post if I were tooooooo . . .

4 comments:

AmyBergquist said...

Dude, just turn off the outside light. They'll go away, they're like moths. :)

Ben said...

That's what we eventually did. We then sat in the back half of our apartment and ate dinner while the kids fluttered off to other houses.

It was pretty sad how few houses in our neighborhood bothered with handing out candy, though. There were only 4 in my sight line that had an outside light on.

Anonymous said...

In the black hole that is southern Oregon where I live, we had zero trick-or-treaters. None. I had bought four bags of candy, placed a pumpkin outside my door, and turned on the porch and garage lights full blast. And nary a child came to my door. I suppose we are polar opposites.

Ben said...

When we lived in Boston, we were in an area that was very hit-or-miss. So, we'd always stock up, just in case. Sometimes, we'd hand out a ton. Other times, I'd eat a lot of candy over the month of November.