I had heard about these other houses as “the one that gives out king-size candy bars” or “the one that gives out dollar bills.” Frankly, I can’t compete with that. It’s just not in my budget to provide a 400-calorie meal for every neighborhood kid, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing that those dollar bills may have been temporary residents of a stripper’s thong. Because I’m a fame seeker (and because my wife complains that I have no goals in life), I made it a personal mission to become, “the house that sucks at Halloween.”

Three years ago, I thought I had a winning plan: beat kids at their own game. When they shouted, “Trick or treat?!” with their buckets and pilllowcases held out, I simply said, “Treat, thank you!” and took a candy bar. I made a few kids cry and got some dirty looks from parents, but overall, they seemed to understand the silliness of their request. After an hour of doing this, I noticed I simply had double the amount of candy I started with. I forfeited and word traveled fast: I was the guy who gave out handfuls of “good stuff.”

The year after that, I interpreted the phrase a little differently. Perhaps, “Trick or Treat?” was actually, “Trick or Treat!” As in, “These kids are begging me to pull a coin out of my ear.” I rehearsed several different tricks, one involving my sister-in-law Kelsey disappearing from behind a blanket, and bought a bunch of those nasty NECCO wafers. (Who even eats those?) I made sure the bowl of “candy” was clearly visible. My first customer, a sassy little Transformer, called me a “stupidhead” because I “didn’t even know how to play Halloween” and I had “old people candy.” But by the end of the night, I had a line around the block of kids wanting me to “guess their card.” I also had most of the high school football team because I made the mistake of dressing Kelsey in one of those out-of-the-bag bunny costumes. (Note: “Playful Bunny” is a non-copyrighted “Playboy Bunny.”) My wife and I both agreed Kelsey was still easier than a real rabbit.

I took a more health-conscious approach last year by ordering a box of toothbrushes that said, “Plaque is the Boogeyman of your Mouth.” As it turns out, kids love trinkets. Actually, love is an understatement; kids will pull out hair for something they can stash in a junk drawer. I had kids coming back to trade colors and found out each toothbrush was equivalent to three Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups or my choice of six “mid-grade” pieces of candy, like flavored Tootsie Rolls or little boxes of Sugar Daddy’s. (Though I felt like a pedophile for taking the latter.)

This year I’m stepping up my game. I’m giving out little bags of plain broccoli, and I’ve hired some bullies to spread rumors that I hate Disney movies.

–Heidi Thomasoni

Photo by bunchofpants (Creative Commons)