Trick or Treat
There is no sympathy for the moving. Your enemies laugh, your neighbors disappear, and your friends get sick seemingly all at once. Your best friend says, “Sorry buddy, but I’ve got my prostate exam that weekend.” Or, “Oh, you're moving, great! How can I help? I'm available next Monday night. I've got the kids from the Shelter that I'm mentoring, but maybe they can help with the light stuff, like the china. Here, call me as soon as you have something definite. You know I'm always there for you.” Even I have to admit, that was a good one. Yup, moving sucks. At least all I had left to do was to empty the pantry and pack up my perishables. Save for that, the place was all but empty. I was going to miss this place. It was a nice second story apartment with great views of the neighboring golf course and huge patio porches, but it was a bit much for just one guy and his two small pugs.
The doorbell rings.
Jasmine and Bella scurried to the door to greet the visitors. Certainly, whoever it was must have come to see them. But who could it be? Everyone knows I’m moving. Upon opening the door, I was greeted with the shouts of half dozen costumed children.
"Trick or Treat!" Oh no. How could I forget this was Halloween? Probably because I was a middle-aged, divorced man with no children of his own in the middle of moving. That is not to say that I don’t like children. I just never had any. What was I going to do? What was I to tell these children that climbed two flights of stairs to get their treats?
I grabbed one of the already packed bags and from the counter along with a handful of soy sauce, duck sauce, and hot mustard packets from recent takeout. How would they know? It was dark right?
"Let's see, Easy Mac for you, Top Ramen for you, Beanie Weenies for you two, Beef Ravioli here, and a can of tuna fish for you, and some stewed tomatoes," it went on and on. I didn’t know that many kids could fit on my porch.
"You know you can give us money, Mister," the shortest one said, I could only assume was some sort of transformer character.
"I can? I don't have change," I answered.
"It's ok, we take bills," Dracula boasted.
"You do?"
"Can I have your dog? Not the broken one, but the fat one?" asked another from the back of the porch. Jasmine, the oldest pug had only one eye. This prompted many, albeit polite questions from first encounters. And I wouldn’t say Bella was fat, maybe a bit on the portly side. Kids can be cruel though.
“Where’s your wife?” one inquired.
“No, you cannot. And I don’t have a wife.” I offered.
“Can I use your bathroom,” another asked. I was getting confused as to who was who.
“Did she leave you?” asked another.
“Number one or number two?” I asked. He held up three fingers.
“I’m sorry I don’t have any toilet paper,” I answered. “And -”
“Why not?”
“Because, I’m moving.”
“Are you moving because your wife left you?” asked Tinkerbelle, or some sort of fairy.
“No. Well, yes but,” I couldn’t answer fast enough.
“So you’re single,” one of them said.
“Well, I guess-” I stumbled
“My Aunt is single.”
“Really? I mean, I don’t see what business that is-”
“Do you have a can opener?” interrupted another little girl in what I could only guess was a Britney Spears costume.
“Why do you need a can opener?” She took out a can of mixed fruit from her bag and held it up.
“Oh. Who are you supposed to be anyway?” I asked.
“She’s Hanna Montana,” answered Dracula.
“No, I’m not,” exclaimed the girl. “I’m Miley Cyrus.”
They’re all Britney Spears to me, I thought to myself.
“I really have to go to the bathroom mister,” said the squirming Transformer.
“Didn’t you come with your parents,” I asked “Or did you come by yourselves?”
“My mom told me not to say,” said a child with the odd hair and forks taped to his hands.
“Where is your mom?”
“Home,” he answered.
“So, she’s not here.” I said. “I’m sorry, but why is your hair like that? And what’s with the forks?”
“My mother wouldn’t let me use knives.”
“Knives? Knives for what?”
He proudly struck a pose and declared, “I’m Wolverine.”
“Uh-huh. And what about your glimmering friend in the back there,” I asked pointing at the luminous glow emanating from the back of the group.
I could almost feel her roll her eyes as she sighed and said, “O-M-G. I’m not glowing. I’m texting.”
“You have a cell phone?”
“Duh.”
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Ten. What are you writing a book?” she snidely replied.
“Uh-”
“Are you Jewish?” it was Tinkerbelle again.
“What? Why? What does that have to do with anything?” I asked. “Besides, isn’t it getting late? Don’t you have some more Trick or Treating to do?”
“I still have to go to the bathroom,” said the Transformer again.
“My Aunt is Jewish,” she finished.
“Well good for your Aunt,” I answered “And I still don’t have any toilet paper.”
The children moaned when I began shoeing them off the porch. I didn’t need to see behind their masks to know they were frowning and making faces at me. It took some persuasion but I had finally managed to reign in Jaz and Bella. The two pugs, as crafty as they were, had most likely made off with half of the children’s candy by now. Still, once I closed the door, I could hear the little costumed monsters dashing on to the next apartment with excitement.
I decided to put the perishables back into the refrigerator rather than drive the distance back to the new place. I would inflate the air mattress and stay another night. I was exhausted. Not so much from the move, but more from the encounter with the children. It was obvious I was out matched and out-witted.
The next morning came too soon. I woke up to the insistence of the two “loaf of bread on legs” also known as Jaz and Bella. They needed to go out so I squirmed my way off of the now half deflated air mattress and gathered up their leashes. When I opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch I couldn’t help but to smile.
“Well girls, looks like we have some toilet paper.”
