Trick or Treat

 

The evening is coming when children, and I use that term “children” loosely, will come to my door, dressed in costumes that range from cute to the macabre to the barely there. These little people will hold their bag of candy/loot in front of me and utter the phrase “Trick or Treat”.

I am not a monster. I will not mention to the five-year-old in front of me wearing the fourth Frozen costume I’ve seen tonight what sugar will do to her teeth.

I am not a ghoul. I will not tell the ten-year-old sporting the fifth store-bought, made-in-China Harry Potter ensemble – robe, scarf, glasses, and scarf – the way the human body metabolizes sugar is in the liver.

I am not a beast. I will not mention to the thirteen year-old rocking an anime costume from a show I’ve neither seen nor heard of that for the first time in history kids are not expected to live longer than their parents because of, among other things, obesity, type 2 diabetes, and heart disease.

I am not a troll. I will not mention to this sixteen-year-old who has shown up long after I’ve closed up shop for the night, ignoring that my porch light is off and, incidentally, he’s not even bothered to put on a costume whatsoever other than sunglasses, but I will not mention to him that processed food – and candy is certainly processed food – isn’t just toxic; it’s addictive.

I am not the devil. I know Halloween is only for one evening a year. And yet, I’m confused by the arrangement. I give the kids a candy and, in return, I get… the pleasure of seeing the kids in a costume? I mean, the whole exchange starts with a question: “Trick or Treat”. In the 1966 classic, “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown”, the kids say, “Tricks or Treats”. Tricks – plural. But I’m a modern man. I can live with one, the singular. So how about it, kid? How about a trick?

I mean, I know you’re a kid so I’m not talking about David Copperfield stuff. How about a simple card trick, kid? Do you know three-card Monty? No?

Look. You’re a kid. I’m not looking for David Blaine type stuff. Just the everyday, pick-a-coin-from-behind-my-ear trick would suffice. Do you know that one? No? You wanna just give me a quarter then? No? Well, then we’re going to have to work something out.

Can you say Abracadabra and pull a rabbit out of a hat? No? Well, look, then I’m going to have to tell you that the average American consumes seventeen teaspoons of sugar every day, and before I personally am responsible that number, you’re going to have to well, sweeten your side of the deal.

Look, I am not an ogre. I don’t need you to catch a bullet with your teeth, although I do like that trick very much. I’d take the trick where your wand becomes a bouquet of flowers. I mean, you just buy that trick at the store. But at least it’s a gesture.

If you can’t actually perform magic, then at least you should be able to discuss magic. Who is the best of all time? David Blaine? David Copperfield? Did the Penn and Teller schtick stand the test of time?

I am not a fiend. Not everyone likes magic. Maybe you find magic idiotic? Maybe you think magic is just someone pretending to pull a rabbit out of a hat/coin out of thin air. That’s fine! I will accept a clear point of view of an entry.

Listen. The reason I have to be firm about this is that at some point on your journey this Halloween evening, someone may ask: How’s tricks? Now the etymology of “How’s tricks” is in doubt, some saying it’s from a nautical tour of duty, but others trace its origins to the 30s when a certain type of lady who would turn tricks would ask a colleague about business.

Either way, Kid, you’re going to want an answer. So, you know what a good answer to “How’s tricks?” is?

It’s tricky to rock a rhyme to rock a rhyme that’s right on time! It’s tricky!

Let me say that if Run DMC comes to my door on Halloween and drops that kind of thing on me? You know what they get? Candy!

So come on, Kid. Trick or Treat. Come with a song. Come with magic. Come with dialogue and a point of view. OR ELSE… and I hope it doesn’t come to this BUT… or else I will have to explain glycemic index to you. And I promise you… that will be scary.