To paraphrase Michael Gross in
Tremors 2, "I...am completely...out of candy. That's never happened to me before."
We had so many T.O.T.'s! Fifty, maybe. It was brilliant. I sat on my spooky porch in my black hooded cloak, the candy bowl wreathed in webbing, and they kept coming and coming. Only one little lad was too scared to take candy from me—he stood and stared, wide-eyed, while his mom urged him to reach into the bowl—but several were visibly nervous, and quite a few complimented my decorations. One little Spider-Man was convinced that there were real spiders about, and kept staring back at the porch as he walked off across the lawn. My favorite comments came from two teenage girls, as I sat very still:
Girl 1: "Is that...like, a guy?"
Girl 2: "I don't think so."
Girl 1: "I think it's a person. Is it a person?"
Girl 2: "Maybe."
Girl 1: "I don't think it's a person."
Me: "Hello."
Girls: "AAAIIIIGH!"
I always wanted to be one of the "cool" houses, ever since I stopped trick-or-treating, and finally I was. Kids—a few of them, maybe—will remember my porch when they're adults, look back on it as emblematic of the innocent autumnal fun of All Hallows' Eve.
(It got cold out there after a couple of hours, so I let K. take over the responsibility. And that, of course, is when the cute cleavagey college-girl costumes started coming out. *sigh* Serves me right for dereliction of duty.)