It’s FREE candy season, a celebration I still FREEly take part in, even as an adult because I cannot turn down free treats. Doesn’t matter if I’m not hungry or if I already have a bellyache from the free treats I consumed moments earlier. If there’s a bowl of Sweet Tarts or a popcorn ball or even those gross black and orange wrapped half-taffy/half-regurgitated peanut things, I’m going to eat them all because somewhere in the back of my mind there’s a 7-year-old dressed up like a cat for the third year in a row screaming, “TAKE THE CANDY! FREE CANDY! HOARD IT AND PULL OUT THE NAME-BRAND PIECES AT LUNCH TO IMPRESS PEOPLE!”
Halloween is the only holiday that you get just as much booty as the other kids…except the kids who had their parents drive them around instead of walking and got to go to double the amount of houses…and the rich kids who got full size candy bars, probably just delivered to their door because they were too busy eating Lunchables and wearing Guess Jeans and not sharing their rooms to trick-or-treat. But aside from those kids, they must of only made up like 1%, our candy wealth was just as respectable as everyone else’s on October the 31st.
The rest of the year, the “treats” in my house were most assuredly tricked. My mother, who I may have mentioned before, made it her number one job to brainwash us into believing that being broke was absolutely the greatest thing ever, didn’t fail to bring her zany wisdom to realm of snacks. Along with her “love grows best in little mobile homes” and “You know, I’m glad we don’t have money because if we had new clothes/cable/heat we wouldn’t be so close!” mottos, Moms loved to get “creative” with our afternoon treats.
This often involved tricking us into some sort of game like “Let’s Pretend We Grew Up in the Depression like Grandma” (bread crusts and syrup) or the ever-popular “Magic Saltines” in which we were allowed to imagine any delicious dessert we wanted and then eat a saltine and pretend we were eating said delicious dessert. If that was getting old, she would give a lackluster treat a new name, such as, S’mlesses, which were S’mores without that pesky chocolate part.
I’m not complaining (Mom, I’m not complaining!). The end result of this kind of indoctrination is an adult who will be satisfied by cold buttered noodles and a questionable banana for dinner, and has earned the nickname “Seriously, you’re like a goat” from her husband. On this glorious Halloween holiday, though, part of me loves reveling in straight-up Treat Greed, stockpiling my brand-name bounty on the dining room table and refusing to trade with anyone unless they agree to relinquish their Reese’s Pieces for two of my Tootsie Rolls because I convince them that two is better than one. The fools! This weekend, the cold noodles can take a backseat. I’ve got some sugary no-trick treats to collect.
*Editorial note: The author took liberties with facts in this post. We actually had heat. Also, I never got a Reese’s Pieces out of anyone. I was always on the Tootsie Roll end of that deal.