Frog and Goat

Our neighborhood is lame. It should come as no surprise that we moved into the one neighborhood on the planet that is populated by freaks who don’t let their kids trick or treat. The one time of the year I want people to stop by our house and we only get a handful of kids. At least I can go back to my misanthropic ways and hope that no one even looks this way.

Our first trick-or-treater showed up with his mom and baby sister. They are the ones with the house for sale that’s very similar to ours. She said they’ve lived in the neighborhood for three years and there’s never been any Halloween fun. I guess it’s a good thing we put up the pumpkin lights, the strobe and the black light. Otherwise we wouldn’t have seen one witch, ghost or gremlin. As it was, I was practically begging the kids to take as many candies as they wanted. I thanked them profusely for stopping by. Sigh, I’m now the pathetic woman down the street.

The people at work are the recipients of the gummy body parts and all of the twizzler flavors I don’t like. Lucky them.