Trick-or-Treat!

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

I paused the movie* and my wife and I turned and smiled at each other. This was our first Halloween where we decided to embrace the full stay-at-home experience: the kind where you ditch the parties and usual Halloween chaos with friends and participate in the life of the neighborhood by passing out candy to trick-or-treaters. 

                  “First customers,” I said with a grin. A low, involuntary groan escaped my lips as I heaved myself out of the deep cushions of the couch. How long had I been sitting there? Long enough that my back was already stiff.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

                  “Better hurry,” my wife said. She looked excited. Her hand instinctively rested on her belly, where our future trick-or-treater was growing. This was the last Halloween where it would just be the two of us. The thought was both exciting and surreal.

                  I opened the front door to high-pitched shouts of “Trick or Treat!” On our porch were three kids in costume. The first was a classic ghost, bright eyes peering through triangular cut-outs, and a chocolate stain seeping through the sheet around the mouth. The second wore red sunglasses that had LED lights embedded in the frames, hair slicked, and a jacket rolled up to his bony elbows. The third was something that looked like a cross between the Wolfman and Frankenstein’s monster, a mashup I had never quite seen before. 

                  “Oh, wow, you guys look great!” said my wife, coming over from the couch, candy bowl in hand. Her smile lit up her whole face—she was genuinely having fun, probably as much fun as the kids. Staying in this year was the right call. 

                  I looked the trio over and nodded approvingly. “Okay, I know what you are,” I said, pointing to the ghost. “But you,” I said, turning to the kid in the flashing glasses, “what are you supposed to be?”

                  “I’m the Rizzler!” he shouted proudly. Peals of laughter erupted from the other kids as he did a spin move and passed his hand over his hair. 

                  “The Rizzl…” I began, but I didn’t get a chance to finish my question. The kids were already distracted by the handfuls of candy my wife was happily dropping into their bags. Their excited squeals brought a smile to my face: we splurged on the good stuff, none of that tiny, fun-sized nonsense. Worth it. 

                  “Sheesh, you’re mogging this block, bruh, no cap!” the Rizzler exclaimed, holding up his bag as though it were a treasure trove.

                  “Yeah, Snickers be bussin, on god!” another added. 

                   “Wait, what was that?” I asked, completely unable to process the words. But again, my question was too late: the kids had already jumped off the porch steps and were racing toward their parents, who waited for them at the sidewalk. 

                  “You guys be safe!” my wife called after them, waving at the little group. Kids and parents all waved back and began walking toward the next house with its porch light on, four houses down.

                  I watched them for a moment before closing the door on the chilly night air. I looked at my wife with a bemused expression. “Did you hear that? What in the world is a ‘Rizzler’?”

                  She laughed and shook her head. “I have no idea! And we’re ‘mogging this block’? What does that even mean?”

                  I shrugged, mystified. I couldn’t help but feel we’d been insulted in a foreign language. I had to get to the bottom of it. We pulled out our phones and spent the next several minutes pouring over slang, researching definitions. After a bit of Googling, this is what we found:

·      RIZZLER: Someone with a lot of charisma.

·      MOGGING: To look so good, you make everyone else look bad.

·      NO CAP: Not lying, being serious.

·      BUSSIN: Something that tastes really good. 

·      ON GOD: Swear to god, being completely honest.

                  “So…they’re good kids,” my wife said, her voice soft with amusement.

“Yeah,” I said slowly. “Good kids.”

 I must have been frowning, because my wife looked at me and said, “Oh, come on, what’s wrong?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t understand a single word they said. I remember my dad going on and on about stuff like this when I was a kid. He still does. And now here I am doing the same thing.”

                  “So?” She smiled mischievously. “What’s the matter, you scared of getting old?”

                  I looked at her with an expression of mock horror. “Uh, yeah! Aren’t you? My dad was old! Which can only mean I’m old! We’re old!” An arched eyebrow let me know I was getting close to a line I shouldn’t cross. “I mean, those kids definitely think we’re old.”

“And?” 

“And,” I gestured emphatically toward her growing belly.

                  My wife rolled her eyes. “We’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. No cap.”

                  I let out a long breath, smiling in spite of myself. “God,” I groaned, “I’m so old.”

My wife took her seat on the couch. She reached over and patted the empty space beside her. I slid close and wrapped my arm tightly around her shoulders. “It’s going to be good,” she said, resting her head against my arm. “On god.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Okay.” I hit play and we settled back into the movie, the familiar black-and-white images flickering over the screen. For a moment, the world outside was silent, just the occasional rustle of dry leaves in the wind.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

We turned to each other, exchanging knowing glances, both smiling. Another round of trick-or-treaters waited expectantly at our door. 

“It’s going to be fun.”

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

* 1954’s Creature from the Black Lagoon. A classic black-and-white monster movie, perfect for cool, dark fall evenings. A Halloween staple.

Author's Note:  The husband and wife are still happily married and are looking forward to taking their daughter trick-or-treating this year. With her brother.