Halloween is a terrible ungodly blood-sucking devil-worshipper’s feast, where little children go out and get kidnapped and chopped up by evil neighbours. Well, at least, that’s what I was give as a reason for not going out trick-or-treating when I was little. “It’s fun and everyone else is doing it” seemed to be my parents’ favourite reasons for not doing things…
Meh. Anyhoo, let’s not get bogged down in that. The thing is, tonight, for the first time in ages for me and the first time ever for Husband, we are handing out sweeties to the kiddywinks, dressed up in our best black outfits.
Except that dear over-enthusiastic Husband has been getting all excited and giving out our precious stash of treats by the handful, so after only a few bell-rings, we were already half way through our bowl of mini-twixes and mikyway treatsizes. So we will probably end up lynched by a mob of angry 10-year-old sexy kittens (is it just me or is that just plain wrong?) and half-hearted attempts at hoodie-skeletons.
Please, dear readers, avenge us if we come to a sticky end at the hands of sugar crazed pre-teens!