It’s nearly upon us–that one day of the year when it’s not only legal, but socially encouraged for children to wear disguises and demand free goods from strangers. Unfortunately, every culture has those few social miscreants few who refuse to play by the rules and just want to ruin things for the rest of us. While I don’t condone hooliganism, if anyone deserves the swift justice of a few rotten eggs and toilet paper, it’s the people who hand out this garbage to trick-or-treaters.
Nothing adds to a night out on the town with your childhood friends quite like a passive-aggressive reminder that everything fun is probably bad for you. If it weren’t for these dental dicks, all your teeth would assuredly rot right out of your head. But why stop the personal hygiene tips there? Walking around the neighborhood all night dressed as Batman is sweaty work. Why not toss in some deodorant while you’re at it, Dr. Downer?
Thanks, guy. Now instead of eating a delicious Snickers bar, I can draw one. Who in their right mind thinks that office supplies are a reasonable substitute for candy? You wouldn’t try to get sugar high from a no. 2 pencil, and you wouldn’t take the SATs with a KitKat. If you weren’t so cheap, maybe you could have afforded Sharpies and I would have at least been able to catch a buzz. Perhaps I’ll draw a prison, which is where people like you belong.
Did you really not have time to buy candy? Retail outlets and creepy neighbors put up Halloween decorations in mid-September, a full month and a half before the big night! I don’t care if you’re Jack fucking Bauer, you could’ve at least picked up a bag of stale Tootsie Rolls from Target. It’s also disgusting how you people assume you can just buy us off with a couple coins. How am I supposed to turn this 13 cents into candy without a Flux Capacitor?
This doesn’t include the premium stuff like Bubble Yum or Big League Chew. I’m talking about the cheek slicing, molar crunching garbage that tastes like it’s already been scraped off the underside of a movie theater cushion. Thankfully, for every sociopath that gives out this gravel, there’s one fellow classmate who actually likes the stuff and is willing to act as a schoolyard fence, trading decent candy for these gross pink rocks.
The fact that this stuff is real candy (or even edible, for that matter) is nothing but an abhorrent lie perpetuated by Big Sugar. I’ve eaten erasers more digestible than these little fructose boogers. Assuring consumers that your product is actual food by including “candy” in the title is about as trustworthy as when McDonald’s began claiming all their burgers were 100% “real” meat. Even if it were edible, who is this meant to appeal to–candy vegetarians? I bet Candy Corn would go great with some steamed Candy Broccoli or perhaps some Candy Pea Soup.
When admiring your pile of sugary loot at the end of the night, there is no bigger eyesore than a misleadingly named Red Delicious. But at least these hunks of future compost are easy to spot.
With their candy camouflage packaging, it’s far too easy to mistakenly identify those little red boxes of disgusting raisins as scrumptious Nerds. In fact, next to apple razorblades and creepy guys in vans, mistakenly tossing back these Sun-Maid rabbit turds is the number one cause of Halloween related deaths, according to a study someone did once, probably.
These insufferable shitheads are the buzzkilling-est bunch of buzzkills that should be killed with a buzz saw. Unfortunately, they always remain safe from harm within their castles made of soapboxes, built atop the highest of moral high grounds. Spreading a positive message about religion is fine if that’s your thing, but there is a proper time and a place. Smeared in chocolate, jacked on sugar, and sitting in a pile of empty candy wrappers is not the ideal situation to read about the sin of gluttony.
Not getting candy sucks, but quality toys can be a decent consolation prize. But as every kid knows, toy quality is almost always directly correlated to the number of reasonable points of articulation. Once in awhile, I’ll take a cool robot with movable arms and legs over a Jolly Rancher. But if you come at me with stickers, a Chinese finger trap, or plastic spider rings, you can get fucked. Seriously, if I wanted those, I’d go drop $20 in an arcade to earn tickets and buy them like any reasonable kid.
What’s the worst crap you’ve ever been given when trick-or-treating?
Article by contributor Corey Atwood.
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