It’s all fun and games till they start beheading babies

I liked Halloween as a boy because, even then, I was a cheapskate. I loved getting candy, and I loved even more getting it for free.

When I was about 11, my three siblings came down with the flu. Oddly, I didn’t. I went out trick-or-treating alone till about 10:30, way past my bedtime, while my sister and brothers languished at home praying to the porcelain god.

I took in quite a haul. Two full bags. Probably today’s equivalent of a couple hundred dollars’ worth of candy. 

I was afraid that night. Not of goblins or ghosts. No, I was afraid that my sibs would steal some of my hard-earned free candy. I ate as much as I possibly could, and then some more, but there was still an overflowing bag of the sugary crap. To guard it from my ill siblings, I put it right next to my bed.

That night, the flu, the candy, and the fates, caught up with me. I turned on my side and projectile-puked right off the bed into – you already guessed it – the candy bag.

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