Halloween

Thank fuck for that, Halloween is over. I hate the bastard.

I mean, I don't mind the fun of it. The decorations, it's all a laugh. Well, it's all fun and games until the new cohort of local kids come knocking on your door.

Take the sweets and piss off. No, I'm not scared of the outfits. I just have the crippling anxiety of the expected performance. The parents looking on as I try my best.

"Oh look at you all! So scary! Don't you look great! Here, take a few handfuls of bite-sized diabetes."

Fuck that shit, I'm off out!

Frankenstein? Nah, too obvious. Vampire? No, I'm pale enough already. Murdered sexy cheerleader? Not ready for that conversation.

I know. I've got it. Fetch me the sandwich board.

"Thank you for getting in touch. I completely understand your frustration — and I appreciate you taking the time to bring this to our attention."

Evil bastard!

Yeah, I see it in their eyes. I sense the cold shiver running down their spines. Yes, fake-slashed-face dude, edgy exorcist vicar, even you, short-skirted skeleton lady. You read that right.

I left the em dash in!

MUAW HAA HAAAA!

Happy fucking Halloween.