Trick or treat! Please take one. Happy Halloween!


Happy Halloween! One piece only, please.


The candy is for everyone. We ask that you take only one piece so that others may enjoy it as well. (Also, please do not take the bowl. Last year’s was a wedding gift. We would greatly appreciate its return; no questions asked.)


Please DON’T take just one. DON’T have a happy Halloween.


Clearly, you’re not falling for reverse psychology. Let’s try negative reinforcement. Enjoy the Brussels sprouts!


Last year was a fun little reminder of the trick half of “trick or treat.” True, I sort of expected to find my house covered in toilet paper, but just because I’m old-fashioned doesn’t mean I can’t take a joke. (I’m still impressed that someone could write so legibly in shaving cream and—correct me if I’m wrong—excrement.) I surrender, you rascals! Take your chocolate plunder* (ha, ha)!

*One piece per person.


For the record, slashing a man’s tires is not a “trick.” It’s a “felony.” Nevertheless, I won’t let a mere $600 ruin my holiday spirit. Check out the devil horns on my new Rottweiler, Cerberus—he’s devilishly cute! Help yourself to some candy—just know that Cerberus seems to think it’s all for him, and he tends to be protective. He’s also a bit twitchy from the handful of amphetamines I gave him. Bon appétit!


Here is the candy, per your demands. Please return Cerberus. It’s been a year and we miss him.


Very funny, making my dog a full-fledged meth addict before sending him home. I get the irony. Have as much candy as you can eat. You’d be amazed at how cheap razorblades are these days.


Here we are again. You’re right; I was bluffing last year with the razorblades. Take the candy. I can’t stop you. In fact, I hope you enjoy it, I really do. Because it will be the last sweet sensation in your sorry excuse for a life. You’ve soiled my doorstep, corrupted my dog, ruined four perfectly good tires, and stolen a central piece of my tableware. I’ve spent the last three months watching Apocalypse Now, and as far as you’re concerned I’m Colonel fucking Kurtz. Can you hear that? In the trees? That’s me. Turn around and say hi, but make it good, because they’ll be your last fucking words, cocksucker.


Howdy! I want to say that moving to a new neighborhood can be really scary, but everybody has been so terrific, especially in looking past all the ugly rumors that seem to have followed me here. (You know how these “lawyers” can get …) Anyway, here’s a little treat to say thanks! Happy Halloween! (Please take one.)