"Trick or Treat. Smell my feet. Give me something good to eat."
My earliest trick-or-treat memory was when my Mom dressed me up as mini- Santa Claus including makeshift beard stretched from cotton balls and a big jelly belly of rolled up winter scarves. In full action mode, pillowcase slung over my back, we were off on an incredible spooky adventure. With my two sisters in tow, we trekked through our neighborhood and beyond for miles gathering our massive bounty of sweet treat treasures. Upon returning home we dumped our goody bags out on the green shag carpet. Admiring its luscious beauty we wanted to roll around in our candy as if we were the greedy Three Little Pigs in a luxurious mud bath. Our own personal pots of child's gold. Eyes wide as the moon, we stared salivating over the mouth watering deliciousness of every variety of chocolate bar, Sweet Tarts, Smarties, Pixie Sticks, Necco Wafers, caramels, candy necklaces, wax bottles of drinkable goo and the occasional box of raisins or homemade cookie. No rocks.
The day after Halloween, stuffing my face with candy, I manically rode my tricycle on our front porch for thirty minutes like the little boy from The Shining, "Redrum! Redrum!" My energy level measured Breaking Bad,"meth addict" on the uncontrollable kid scale. This was soon followed by collapsing into a long sugar induced slumber while watching Sesame Street. C-is for cookie, C- is for coma. Candy wrappers littered our living room like the driveway of a Dixie trailer park. Next thing I remember, I slowly woke up with sticky orange drool running down my chin. My stomach felt like it was gut checked by Mike Tyson and I had a Tootsie Roll lollipop suspended in my ponytail.
So once a year let your mischievous monsters and ghostly goblins imagine they inherited Willy Wonka's factory and let it rain M&M's and Skittles. The memories are sure to haunt them forever.
