Trick or....Tricks?

In the five years we've been married, John and I have had a low success rate with trick or treaters. At first, we were both a bit offended. We'd go to the store a week in advance and buy all of the expensive candy we always wanted as a child. Then, we'd rush home with our loot at the door waiting in anxious anticipation for the hundreds of children we'd prepared to treat. We didn't want to that family--the cheapsakes who only bought healthy candy or didn't bother to answer their doors on Halloween. Somehow, though, we always ended up with just a few trick-or-treaters and LOTS of leftover candy to horde or take into the office. The last year we were in Atlanta we'd given up all hope and bought only two bags of candy, which was good because I think we only got three rings last year. "What's wrong with this kids?" We thought.

So, in moving here, we thought we'd washed our hands clean of this fated ritual. Maybe, Halloween was only an American thing.

"Do they even celebrate Halloween here?" I asked John last week.

"Yeah," he said, "but it's not like at home. Only kids participate and there are no parties for the parents."

"Well, should we buy candy, just in case?" I wondered.

"Nah, there aren't any kids in this complex and you can't get into the building without living here. I don't think we have to worry about it." He replied.

Then, a week passes and we both TOTALLY forget about Halloween. Then at 5:30 we're buzzed from someone outside.

"Who could that be?" I yell from the other room.

"Your guess is as good as mine." He picks up the ringer and I hear him buzz someone in and then I hear: "Uh, Oh."

"Who was it?" I ask.

"Uh, I think we have trick or treaters. Do we have any candy?" Scrooge screams in a panic.

"Well, no you told me not to buy any?" I retort.

Two minutes pass and I hear frantic russeling in the kitchen and then the flat door bell ringing. I hear more russeling, a muffled question from the kids, the word "Cookies!" from John, and hasty exit by the kids.

"What just happened? What did you give them?" I say.

"Ah, I gave them amaretti cookies from the pantry. The kids asked what they were and I told them." said the Mindless Horsemen.

"Amaretti cookies? Kids won't like them and there not even wrapped. There is no way their mothers are letting them eat those." I reply.

"Well, I only gave them three each but yeah, I'm not answering the door for the rest of the night. We have to be verwy-verwy quiet." says Elmer Fudd.

So, there you have it folks. We've become the people our parents warned us about. Those scary strangers who franctically dig in their pantries for leftover, unwrapped food so that they can poison the neighborhood kiddies. The people who are smart even to turn out the lights when they're home to discourage kids but who didn't think to lock up the dog--the only who didn't get the memo that TONIGHT we ignoring the door bell so you don't have to bark and run from room to room when it rings.

Since the first ring, we've received three more in the hour.

Hopefully, German parents warn their kids against people like us. You must for verwy, verwy careful during this time of the year.