Trick-of-Treat Patrol

Garry scoffed at the evening’s seventh cat. “This is unbelievable.”

“What is?” Larry asked.

“This Halloween tradition has lost all its vigor.” They looked over the suburban street. From parents in no costumes to houses with no lights on and a tray of candy left on the porch. From no décor to high schoolers dressed in all black and explaining that they’re “ninjas.” The two Trick-or-Treat Patrol (TOTP) officers continued kicking rocks along the street. When they saw the neighborhood rascals dump a whole bucket of unattended candy into their pillow cases, the officers delivered them an invisible zap. The kids yelped, grabbed their butts, waddled home, and looked around for the cause.

“What happened to the good ole days of kids working hard to get their treats? Where did all the genuine spookies go? After they demolished the haunted house at the end of the street, all hope was lost. All these houses look the same, and those pumpkins look too happy.”

“Garry, you gotta stop, or he’ll hear you.”

“So what!” Garry threw up his arms as Larry gasped. “Let him hear me! Larry, this is supposed to be our night, but we’re not even that busy. Santa is laughing at us!”

Larry shushed him, looking over his shoulder. “You need to stop, or you’ll lose your job.”

“Not exactly. I’ll just be reassigned.”

“But we’ve got a good gig.” He gestured to their surroundings: two parents bickered over the amount of sugar their child collected, as a toddler tripped over their polyester cape and started crying.

“This isn’t good, Larry. At least not anymore. A few hundred years ago, we were at our prime, but I gotta move on. I can’t stand --”

All of a sudden, there’s a crack of lightning. It burns a hole in the ground right before their feet. “He’s here,” Larry stuttered.

“Let him come and get me.” Garry puffed out his chest and looked around for any sign of his entrance. “Where is he?”

“Boo!”

“Ah!” Garry and Larry screamed at the voice over their shoulders. They turned around to see their boss snickering and slapping his knee. “For being TOTP officers, you two are too easy to spook. Too easy!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Garry brushed off his shoulders. “Al, I want to be reassigned.”

“Excuse me?” His boss grew ten times his size, towered over him, turned his eyes yellow, and dropped his voice three octaves. Garry gulped, and Larry squeezed really hard to not pee himself. “What did you call me?” Storm clouds revolved around him.

“I’m sorry, sir. Mr. Al Hallow,” Garry stuttered. Larry was now on his knees, begging.

“Right.” Mr. Al Hallow shrunk a few sizes and shooed away the clouds. “Are you sure you want to be reassigned?”

“I’m positive, sir.” Garry puffed out his chest again, while taking two steps back. “This tradition does nothing for me anymore. No one seems to care these days. They throw on a mask and call it a costume.”

“I can’t disagree.” Al returned to his original size, still two feet taller than the officers. He was a goblin lord after all.

“I hope you consider reassigning me to the Thanksgiving Task Force,” Garry added.

“The Thanksgiving Task Force?” The goblin scoffed. “Really, Garry? If you think no one cares about Trick-or-Treating, then Thanksgiving won’t fix your feelings. More and more families order a bucket of fried chicken and call it a night. Some even ditch the whole feast for Black Friday deals and a food-court corndog.”

“He’s got a point,” Larry added and nudged.

“Of course I’ve got a point!” Al threatened to morph again with the most furrowed brow of the century.

“Fine!” Garry started. “I won’t join the task force. How about Valentine’s Watch?”

“Valentine? That guy?” Al scoffed. “He’s an asshole of a boss.”

“Coming from you?” Larry muttered.

“Watch it, buddy!” Al grew three sizes again.

“Alright, alright,” Gary got him back down to Earth. “Thanksgiving it is. I just need something new.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Larry asked.

“This is not me agreeing with the little man,” Al started, looked down at Larry, and turned to the transfer. “But are you sure you’re sure?”

Garry looked down the street surrounding them. Wrappers littered the sidewalks. A little girl ditched her fairy wings, and a boy’s mother insisted he wore a jacket over his mummy costume. “I’m sure.” Garry nodded and shook his arms and shoulders. “I’m ready.”

“So you know what’s gonna happen?” Al asked as he took a few, giant-sized steps back.

“I’ve read about it before.”

“I heard it feels tingly,” Larry added.

“Whatever, little man,” Al said. “But you need to get back. Unless you want to lose your head. Which wouldn’t be the worst thing,” he added under his breath. Larry ran away from his partner and stood next to Al. “Hey, buddy,” the boss started.

“We’re friends now?”

“No, never. Don’t stand so close to me. I need room to breathe.”

Once Larry skipped a few steps to the side, Al looked to Garry. “You ready?”

Garry shook his arms again, rocked his head back and forth, and jogged in place. “I’m ready.”

“Great, but I’m gonna need you to stop moving.”

“Right.” He froze with his feet planted and chin up.

“Have fun with the task force, partner!” Larry waved goodbye.

“Thanks, partner.” Garry waved back.

“Have fun with the turkeys,” Al added, signaling the beam of light to shoot down from the sky. Larry shielded his eyes, while Al didn’t flinch once. The beam grew, engulfed Garry, and then disappeared as if turning off a TV.

***

Garry blinked and found himself in a field full of turkeys.

“I guess I made it to the right place,” he said, causing the turkeys to gobble all at once, like a choir. “Hello?” He called out to anyone and was interrupted again by the gobbling. “Hello?” He was drowned out once again. He swore under his breath and nudged the birds with his legs to make a path. “Here’s to a new adventure.”