Trick or treat, Smell my feet,
Give me something good to eat.
If you don’t, I don’t care,
I’ll pull down your underwear.
I was never really sure how the feet line made it in there. Obviously, something about someone’s feet was pretty scary. Of course, being around Zac when he takes his shoes off, I can understand how frightening it can be. It’s not a sweet aromatic smell. The underwear part explains quite a bit of my later adventures, however.
Tonight is the night. Little kids, and big kids alike, will wander door to door ringing doorbells and knocking harder when the people inside don’t answer fast enough. They’ve dressed up in their cutest scary outfit and now demand their prize of expensive candy. Standing at the sidewalk, watching it all with a flashlight gripped in their hand, is Mommy and Daddy, smiling as their child becomes a panhandler for the night. Candy is dropped into the bag, two or three pieces of varying delights; a “Thank you” is screamed as the child rushes back shouting their loot. “I got a Milky Way.” “I got an apple.” “They gave me money!” I wonder if any child was like Charlie Brown and received a rock. I think I would go back and kick the parent’s ass that did that to my child.