Puppy’s First Trick-Or-Treat

    It’s October 31st and I think if I take him trick-or-treating, it might help.   Unless the fire’ll go with him.   But, it’s October 31st, so we’ll give it a shot.  I hope we don’t find any of his worshippers.  Please God.  It’s nighttime, so the maniacs have dwindled.   So, I get his dog leash (he’s a dog, not a god), pillow cases, I get our three kids and the puppy (we still don’t have a name for this son-of-a-bitch), and head out the door.  My wife stays behind for the other trick-or-treaters.  

     We head down our driveway, all in costume.  I’m a kangaroo, Sean is a peacock, Kristeen is a chihuahua, Bob is a turtle, and the puppy is an angel (I wish).  So we walk around our koldisak to a next door neighbor.  Even though the maniacs have been here, I don’t know my next door neighbors, because most of them moved.  New ones had moved in and we hadn’t met them yet.  So, the puppy’s (our child’s?) first Halloween.  Great.  

     I look back at the puppy’s fire.  This is the only night of the year the puppy’s fire is a good thing.  It keeps truck-or-treaters warm, it prevents burglary, and wows the kids.  Stupid dog.   So, the kids, I, and the puppy go to our first house.  The lights are on, there’s a carved pumpkin that’s lit, so everything looks normal, so we ring the doorbell.  

     A woman answers the door she’s adipose and smells like medicinal marijuana.   She has on a black, pointed hat, jeans, a black netting skirt, a black shirt, and a vest with the design of black cats, broom sticks, and straw hats on it.   In addition to the smell of pot, she has pieces of bread in her hair and it also smells like she hasn’t showered in a few days. 

     The three children say, “Trick-or-treat” and smile.  Stupid dog.  This never happened before and I know the dog is somehow behind this.  

     Then, though, after the kids’ trick-or-treat, the woman starts laughing.  First she chuckles, but it gets louder.  Then, she stops her laughing and go gets a square iron thing that goes in an oven.   There’s aluminum foil over it and square brownies.  I know what’s in the brownies.  My kids each get one and then she gives the puppy a small vanilla brownie.   Who makes special brownies for dogs?   But, the kids say thank you and the woman keeps laughing, but shuts the door.  Great.  I give the puppy the brownie, he smells it, wags his tail, and hoards it.  

     Then, I start hearing little jingles that sound like the puppy’s collar, but multiplied.   Like hundreds of key chains dangling from a car’s ignition.  

      Then I notice a jack-russel terroir following about five feet behind us.  There are some strays in our neighborhood, but they don’t have collars.  Then I see a Maltese behind the jack-russel terroir.  Great.  Stupid dog.  I shoe them off but another dog appears.   So, I try to ignore the dogs and hope they’ll go away the way the son/daughter of a person with Alzheimer’s hopes the Alzheimer’s is a short term problem and if the son/daughter ignores it, it’ll get better.  It never does. 

     We all go to the next house, even our puppy.  I ring the doorbell and a man says what sounds like, “I’m coming,” and we hear him messing with the door handle.  After five minutes, he opens the door.   His body is shaking.   My children say, “Trick or treat” and the man tries speaking, but has aphasia.   So, he sees the children, smiles, and wobbles back into his house, and after 2 minutes, comes back with a closed bag of mixed candy.   My kids smile, but as the man tries to open the bag, his hands shake.  After thirty seconds, the bag breaks open and little packets of candy fly to the ground.  Me and my children help him put the candy back in the bag and ask if we can each have a candy. The man nods yes.  His muscles still shake.   Then the man looks at the stupid puppy and smiles.  He holds up one finger (which shakes) and wobbles into his house.  In a minute, he comes back with a bottle of talcum powder.  The old man smiles and points to the bottle, hand shaking, then points to the stupid puppy.   I smile, take the talcum powder, and thank the man.  I guess we can use this to dry the puppy after a bath instead of towels.  Great.  

    But the kids thank him and the man smiles and shuts the door.   We hear him struggling to lock his door as we walk down his driveway.   We can still see the fire in our driveway.  

    We go to the next house.  I hear the dogs following us.  The house is black. Ok.  Great.  The lights are on, so we ring the doorbell, and hear a recorded wolf howling.  Then, the stupid puppy starts barking, growling, and the hair in the middle of his back goes up, like he’s ready to fight.  Great.  The door opens and there’s a little woman (dwarf) who comes to the door.  She has on a bride’s dress.  She smiles and asks each of my kids which candy they’d like out of the variety pack.  Sean chooses Skittles, Bob chooses M & Ms, and Roberta choose Twizzlers.   My children smile, put the candy in their bags, and the woman tells us to stay safe.   I think of asking her why black, but decide against it.   It’s her home, what should I care?   Then, she asks if she can give the stupid puppy something.  

     “Sure.  Why not,” I say.   Then, she comes back with diapers that look like they were made for Barbie Dolls.  

     “This way, you’ll have less messes to clean up,” and she smiles.   This’ll never fit the stupid puppy.  It’s too small, but I thank her and we keep walking.  Great.  Next thing you know they’ll give this puppy the rock of Gibraltar.  

   We walk to the next house.   There’s a sign on the lawn that says, NRA.   Great.  We knock on the door which has the sign:   “Forget the dog, beware of owner”.  

     I think about leaving, but the lights are on and there’s a pumpkin on the porch, so I ring the doorbell.  A man with long, red hair, a plaid shirt, and overalls opens the door.  There’s an old, wooden table with chips missing, and guns on every wall.  Colt-45s, hand-guns, rifles, and others hanging from nails on the wall like plaques.   The kids say, “Trick-or-treat,” and I pray.   The man smiles and some of his teeth are missing.   He gets the candy from his cupboard.  Stale donuts.  He hands each each one of us one.  He then smiles and looks at the stupid puppy.  He throws the puppy a donut too.  We thank him, and the man closes the door.  The puppy smells the donut and marks his territory.   Stupid dog.  I hear more dogs accumulating behind us. This was the first night this puppy came trick-or-treating and would be the last.  I still see the puppy’s fire.