HallowTeen
With the frosty weather last night, we only had about 30 trick-or-treaters. Of those 30, we had one awesome SpiderMan with realistic muscles, one toddler pumpkin, one pink princess, one Scream killer, one menacing skeleton, one samurai warrior (female), one adorable dinosaur, and 22 sullen teenagers whose “costumes” included winter coats, jeans, bored expressions, and an extra-long pillowcase or huge grocery bag to hold their loot.
How about a little effort, huh? Some makeup, a goofy t-shirt, a cheap mask, anything. Even the 14-year-old girl wearing every layer of clothing she owned – along with a hot pink wig, Green Bay Packer sweats and an orange shirt that proclaimed “This is my costume” – was at least trying. (I think – that might’ve been her normal attire, come to think of it.)
So while I handed out fistfuls of candy to the little ones and the rare teens who enthusiastically participated, thanked me and told me to have a great evening, I rationed the candy to those who were old enough to sport their own facial hair and who were emanating palpable waves of teenage haughtiness.
I gave them the stuff I didn’t like and hoarded all the Three Musketeers for myself. You want the good stuff? You’ve got to EARN it.
