Halloween is going to turn me into a Republican, I swear to…well, nothing and nobody, ’cause I’m not quite there yet.
BUT, by about the sixth set of parents who knocked on the door to scold me for running out of candy*, I was about THIS close to snapping, “Why the f*ck should I subsidize your little j!zz-sneeze’s sugar addiction? If you can’t afford several pounds of mini-chocolate bars, DON’T F*CKING HAVE CHILDREN. Also, OURS IS NOT THE ONLY HOUSE ON THIS STREET. You could try somebody else, maybe one of the 500 other households in the neighborhood. Or, y’know, just go a mile down the road and buy your own bag of candy for the low, low price of 2 for $6!!!”
But I didn’t.
So they took the bowl instead.
HOWEVER, just so we’re absolutely clear on this point: NO, I am NOT going to “go to the store and get more.” Not halfway through Halloween night. That is NOT my responsibility. And that goes double when the roads are clogged with @$$hole preteens who think a mask is enough to save their lives when they shout “HEY, CUNT!” at me.
It isn’t, incidentally. And next time, I’ll have a gun instead of a hatchet. (See? What did I tell you? The transformation begins…)