So, last night, on my way home, I stopped off at the all-night Walgreens to buy some candy. And then I bought a plastic pumpkin, and some other stuff. I was determined to do the new neighborhood proud, by not being just a creepy drunk who sometimes smokes by the side door of his duplex. I'm was going to be a well-adjusted new neighbor.
How many kids did I get, out of the dozens who are regularly doing wholesome kid things during the day? Five. FIVE! And they all showed up at once. I handed out candy once tonight. Now I have bags and bags of Dum Dum Lollipops, which is actually a good thing. I'll eat those fuckers. But what am I to do with the Willy Wonka candy that I bought? That shit is poison.
Fuck you, neighborhood children. Fuck you. You think that Plastic Pumpkin from Walgreens was cheap? OK, you are right to think that. Still--fuck you, neighborhood children. Especially the kids who couldn't be bothered to come and get candy for free. A moderate fuck you to the kid who couldn't carry his own bag of candy, but showed up at my door with just his hands, and the promise that his daddy was carrying his bag of candy for him. Hey, you lazy little fuck--you can't carry your own candy? You know what that means? That means you have enough fucking candy. Also, a minor fuck off to the very unoriginal pirate who showed up at my door--pirate? C'mon. I was a pirate when your daddy was just an overachieving sperm in your grandpa's ball sack.
That said, Kudos to the little girl who showed up dressed up a cockroach. You were the first amongst five, little girl. And had I known you were going to represent the best of the costumes I was going to see all night, I would have dumped all of my Willy Wonka candy in your bag.
The rest of you little bitches can suck it. I hope you got wax bottles, dimes for UNICEF and apples from dentists at every other house you stopped at.
5 comments:
I hate it when they all show up at once. I got a grand total of about eight kids -- all at the same time.
And they were older, but at least they were dressed up. Or wearing make up. I don't think the kids in my 'hood can afford awesome costumes.
Perhaps the children sussed up your abodes and deemed you untouchable.
And seriously Big BM, Dum Dums? I get those for free at the bank. Any day of the week. What about Reese's peanut butter cups, kit kats or something good.
You didn't distract the clerk at the liquor store and steal the stash of Dum-Dums while his or her back was turned, did you Big Blue Monkey?
No reverse trick or treating? We had a handful of baby activists. Warmed my heart.
Huzzahs for your hilarious anger and your willingness to swear at little kids. Now that Whitney does crack and discussed being digitally disimpacted on cable TV, I think we can we officially refute her thesis that "the children are our future."
Brickbats for the Dum Dums. They're not quite generic smarties or cicrus peanuts but it's getting close.
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