Category: Halloween

For Halloween, Brian bought a box of Pixie Stix.
Then he opened the tubes up, poured out a bit of the sugar candy, and added poison to each.
Then he sealed them back up and put them in the beggar bowl.
On Halloween Night, the emergency lines lit up.
Kids were dying from the poisoned candy.
It didn’t take long to figure out it was the Pixie Stix, and some kids remembered where they got them.
From Brian’s neighbor. He’d put them in their bowl.
His bowl had Snickers.
But he didn’t count on their Ring doorbell camera filming him.

I was looking for meaning, so I joined The Church.
I wish I hadn’t.
A church? More like… a cult.
A horrible, horrible cult.
The things I saw… the things that were done to me…
I can’t tell you. I’m so ashamed.
So, I escaped. I ran.
And they found me.
The others who had escaped.
And they took me in.
They helped me.
So, I stayed with them.
I wish I hadn’t.
A survivor’s group? More like… a cult.
The things I saw… the things that were done to me.
So, I escaped. I ran.
Back to The Church.

I have lifetime passes to Disney parks.
My elderly parents want me to use them to take them to Disney World.
But my dad requires a walker and my mother has the bitchy and feisty form of Dementia.
Along with gastrointestinal issues which randomly park her on the toilet for hours.
I would have an absolutely miserable time there, more miserable than they usually make me.
So… I did what any good son would do.
I took them to Disney World.
Flew First Class, got the best suite at the resort.
And I spread their ashes at the Haunted Mansion.

After his Reggie’s wife died, LazarusTech picked up the body and brought it back to their lab.
Nobody’s quite sure what they do there.
Camera crews aren’t allowed in, and employees never talk.
Bodies go in, deliveries go out.
Three days later, LazarusTech delivered the clone of Reggie’s wife to Reggie.
“She has all of your wife’s memories,” said the technician.
And she opened her eyes.
“You fucking poisoned me!” she yelled, grabbing Reggie by the throat.
Reggie fought back and killed her.
“That violates the warranty,” said the technician.
He carried the body to the van and drove off.

Ever notice those people standing at intersections, with their cardboard signs, begging for money?
Where do they go at night?
There’s a homeless camp by the freeway.
It started with carboard boxes and makeshift tents from duct-taped trash bags.
Eventually, actual camping tents showed up.
It’s cheaper to toss trash from construction and refurbs in the weeds than to pay the dump, so leftover materials led to a small village of shacks.
I drove by there and saw Halloween decorations going up.
Do they dress up for Trick or Treat?
Imagine that, kids going door to door, begging from beggars.

Usually, on Halloween, it’s kids going around the neighborhood, begging for candy.
But with the pandemic and businesses closing and people losing their jobs, they’re going around begging for money and food.
And they have their parents with them.
So, we turned the porch light off, closed the garage, and turned off the doorbell.
Which, on second thought, was a bad idea, making people think we weren’t at home.
Yeah, they tried to kick in the door to rob our house.
So, we treated them to two rounds of buckshot.
They got their candy and backsides x-rayed all at once.

Every now and then, a visitor to the Holy Land will lose their mind, act like they’re Jesus or some other holy figure, and cause a ruckus.
Experts call this Jerusalem Syndrome, and it’s usually just some other condition like schizophrenia or paranoia manifesting itself.
And then, there’s the times when a visitor to Graceland will lose their mind, act like they’re Elvis or Priscilla or The Colonel, and cause a ruckus.
Experts call this Nashville Syndrome.
Well, publicly.
Amongst themselves, they stick out their tongue, roll their eyes, and wiggle their finger next to their ear.
Experts are pricks.

Old Man Morley built himself one of those underground houses.
They say that’s better cooling, but it’s not good for lighting.
He put in a skylight in the living room. and there were solar panels and fiber optics to carry in sunlight.
And he had some plasma televisions here and there for scenery.
The energy savings he had from building underground was more than offset by the energy costs of the televisions and lights.
And a security system to deal with the tourists, of course.
Trick or treaters would bang on the skylight, demanding Snickers.
Morley turned out the lights.

Where does Victor get his ideas from?
He gets his ideas from the well in the woods.
Armed with a sword, he goes there every morning with a bucket.
Along the way, he dumps out any bad ideas left in the bucket.
Then, when he gets to the well, he sends the bucket down and pulls it back up with fresh ideas.
The problem is, those bad ideas find root in the darkness of the woods.
And they grow… and grow…
One day, a bad idea whispered in Victor’s ear…
“You don’t need that sword.”
We haven’t seen Victor since.

Doctor Frankenstein told Igor to throw the switch.
Igor was good at throwing the switch.
As a child, he practiced throwing the switch all day and all night.
Got merit badges in throwing the switch when he was a scout.
He majored in throwing the switch back in college.
And apprenticed in a switch manufacturing factory as a tester to get practical experience.
Just for the moment when he’d be asked to throw it.
“I DON’T NEED YOUR WHOLE DAMN BIOGRAPHY, IGOR!” yelled Frankenstein. “THROW THE SWITCH!”
Igor said “Yes, Master!” and pressed the button that had replaced the switch.