Trick or Treat

by Russell Portier © 2002

It is the year 2102, and my friends and I have finally perfected the art of the trick, when denied the treat. Every Halloween, the neighborhood is ours. After 17 years, we have finally brought to heel the whole neighborhood. No one forgets to put out decorations, and no one forgets to have lots of candy and other goodies ready for us.

Unfortunately, the Lobarts are new to the neighborhood. We gave them last year simply for that reason, and let their negligence pass. But this year, we've been watching them. As the today approached, we observed no changes, no preparations, and no decorations. Our informant at the grocery has spotted no candy purchases.

Unacceptable. And now, the necessary preparations having been made, my six brothers in treating and I are ready to spring our tricks. Our plan of attack is quite simple. While Eric fills the mailbox with eggs and bananas, Thomas and I begin the toilet paper attack. The nice thing about technology is how strong they are able to make things these days. A good toilet paper has strong knitting that, with the right angle of attack, will allow the roll to be hurled over a maple tree. And wrapped around it. Meanwhile, Jerry prepares the poop-filled bag with the pressure-armed firecrackers in it and Adam uses an adhesive to glue five decks of playing cards to as many bricks on the house as he can, one card at a time. Barry is the lookout. Dressed in black, we move in. I give the all clear signal, and everyone gets in position. I pump my arm, to begin the ritual.

Eric screams, the first signal the things are not going to plan. I look over and see a high-pressure fire-hose spraying water out of the mailbox, pinning him to the ground. I turn around just in time to see Jerry flung into the air by another hose, which tracks him to keep him flying higher. A sense of disaster and impending doom encourages me to drop to the ground, my only salvation. I hear a roar, and see hundreds of little rockets go off, each one attached to a roll of toilet paper, and each one flying over my head. Thomas gets caught in the barrage, and falls to the ground next to me, eyes closed, moaning. Barry is no where to be seen.

Through the roaring of the rockets and the water hoses, I hear a buzzing noise. I roll onto my other side, and see on the house a blinking neon sign reading, "Trick or Treat".

x x x

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