Psycho #7 – Trick or Treat
© S.B. “LullaDIEs”
A Tale of Cynicism:
Refers to a scornful, jaded, or negative outlook. Includes a general distrust of the integrity or motives of others.
Call me odd. Call me crazy. Call me a stuck up bitch. I don’t care. I hate Halloween.
It’s those damned kids! Disrespectful little brats, the lot of ’em. They trample through the front lawn every year, tearing up the grass and smashing down the flowers. Then they expect candy! The audacity of it all! They want a treat for ruining my yard!
I don’t even have a porch light! I removed the bulb years ago, yet still they come. Banging on the door and pressing the door bell over and over, as if it determines how many pieces they get.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Don’t they know a woman my age can’t handle all the commotion? Are they trying to give me a heart attack? I can barely walk to the door by myself! My arthritis leaves me mostly bedridden, a basic trip to the bathroom is torturous enough. Screw your candy!
This year is going to be different though. This time I purchased tons of candy. I bought Tootsie Rolls, Reeses Cups, Almond Joys, Snickers, Milky Ways, enough treats for everyone.
I also bought some tricks to add to the treats. Antifreeze, razor blades, rat poison, Raid, and a few more surprises to go inside.
“Trick or Treat!” the little girl dressing like a mermaid cheers.
“What would you like?” I ask her kindly.
“A Reeses.” replies her small voice.
I’d carefully opened all the Reeses and separated the chocolate covered peanut butter cups earlier. After pressing an ultra thin, shaving razor blade into the tan filling I heated the opposite piece with a hot, glowing butter knife. The two ends fused together flawlessly, looking perfectly innocent. All I had to do then was pop it back in the original packaging and reglue the seal.
Razor blade it is, I think as I hand her the sweet trick.
“Don’t forget to try and eat it all in one bite!” I call after her in my shaky voice as she runs straight through my flower bed and to the next house.
The Superman wants a Tootsie Roll. I’d taken them all out of their wrappers a week ago and allowed each piece to take an antifreeze bath. Too long in the green toxin would have dissolved the candy, but multiple short dips with time between to dry and absorb the fluid should do the trick. Just to be sure I give Superman five pieces. I’m feeling generous.
The princess wants an Almond Joy. I had carefully ground up some rat poison and mixed it with enough water to make it fluid. Using a syringe, I injected each piece of candy with the mixture. The water would evaporate of course, but the white poison would combine and blend with the coconut filling. I smile as I hand the girl my trick.
With every child that comes to my door, my smile becomes even more genuine.
On and on the children rush up my front step, but I somehow feel less concern about my yard then in the years before. Some kids even appear twice, but in different costumes the second go around. I pretend not to notice and load up their sacks.
Finally, the candy is all gone. I go to sleep late at night feeling quite pleased with myself. I don’t even care that my yard is completely destroyed. For the first time in my old life, I enjoyed a Halloween night.
The next day, nearly every child in town, from toddler to teen, is at the hospital in critical condition. Multiple are already pronounced dead.
Some started having internal bleeding and choked up blood due to severe lacerations within the body. Through X-ray it was determined to be caused by ingesting razor blades. Others were foaming at the mouth, puking up blood and/or greenish brown fluid, or seizing. Poison is suspected to be the cause those symptoms.
The parents are in a panic, wondering who could do such an awful crime. The police are going door to door collecting candy samples from all the houses who had trick or treaters last night. Luckily, I passed all of mine out.
“Ma’am,” the officer addresses me kindly, grabbing my attention from the flower bed I’m trying desperately to fix.
“Yes?” I reply without looking up.
“Ma’am, I need the leftovers of the candy you passed out last night.” he requests respectfully.
I look up at him with a puzzled expression, “I’m sorry officer, I never pass out candy. I don’t even have a porch light.”