Monday, November 04, 2013

To the last trick or treater of the night

To the last Trick or Treater of the Night,

When our door buzzed, at 8PM, I was not surprised – I was even somewhat relieved: we had only a few candy bars left, and I was happy to be rid of them. My daughters were already in the bath – far less tired than I, the one who had ran the darkened street chasing a ghost through crowds of monsters and miniature, Iron Men, all with a fairy princess on my back, whipping me with her ladybug scepter.
But I plodded to the door, the phantom and fairy in their bath chattering at their mother. I open the door, candies in hand… but the “Happy Hallowe’en” died on my lips. For that, I apologize.

You were young, if one defines “young” as “born sometime during the Reagan administration.” You opened you candy-sack with a facsimile of an embarrassed smile. It is not clear if yourself were in costume: you were wearing nice loafers, slacks, and a conservative looking wool coat, above the collar of which peaked what looked to be an amateurish neck tattoo. Last Trick or Treater of the Night, were you a neck-tattoo guy dressed as a banker? Or a banker dressed as a neck tattoo guy?

No matter, on the sidewalk below was a baby carriage, in which I assume – but am not sure – was a baby, who I will do you the credit of assuming – but again do not know – was in some kind of costume other than “sleeping baby wrapped in blankets.”

Please understand, Last Trick or Treater of the Night, back in the mists of time, I too was a new father, so eager that my child should enjoy all of her “firsts” that I was heedless of whether or not she understood or would even remember why there was suddenly a tree in the house, or a flaming cake in front of her.

But lets be honest: your child does not have teeth. Unless you were planning on using your blender to make a Snickers-slurry and spoon-feeding it to him/her, there is no way you were “trick or treating” on his or her behalf. Again: as far as I could tell, your child was not even awake, so it’s not like they were experiencing the wonder of the wandering grotesqueries around her.

In any case, I do not mind that you are probably old enough to remember an age in which Dave Grohl was a drummer and Billy Ray Cyrus only needed to be ashamed of his own career. I do not mind that you may well have tucked a Cabbage Patch Kid (which you are also old enough to remember) into a baby carriage in order to score candies from the neighbours.

But next time, bro, say “Trick or Treat,” ok? It was the least you could do.


Your neighbour.


Robin Jeannet said...

where is the like button?


Jul said...

Mmmm, snickers-slurry.