Halloween is amazing – it’s the only time of year that you can put animal skeletons and rotting pumpkins around the outside of your house, and your friends and neighbors don’t say they are “concerned” or that “it smells” or “seriously, where’s Mr. Whiskers, Claire?” The stores are chock full of spooky spider webbing and fake bloody footprints and zombie body parts. There are animatronic witches and motion-censored ghouls that point at you like Joe Biden when he sees his niece’s dog walker in the crowd. But you hire one actor to hide in the Japanese maple on your front lawn and chase trick-or-treaters with a rubber machete, and somehow you’re crossing a line? How is it okay for a robot to freak the kids out, but not a Juilliard-trained thespian with years of experience and not one, but THREE roles as an interested infomercial audience member under his belt – absurdity! Besides, I have primo candy for the trick-or-treaters. If they get brand name Snickers, why can’t I pretend to bleed from the throat? Where’s the line, society?

I’ll tell you where the line is at my house – it doesn’t exist. If your special snowflake can’t handle an unchained chainsaw and a little light brain matter, they don’t get Skittles. They can go next door and snack on off-brand, lemon-flavored Tootsie Rolls, with the rest of the gutless twerps who couldn’t make it past Señor Stabby McSwitchblade and his many rusty weapons. That’s right – if your child is a wimp, they get dollar store candy. If your child is champion, a fun size Milky Way Simply Caramel is theirs to claim (not even bite size, FUN size).

Now you may be wondering how you’re supposed to teach them the difference between fun danger like the classic Halloween pranks I just described and actual murder-y danger. How do you manage this as a good, responsible parent? Well, here’s what I think: I don’t care.  You’re letting your kid beg door-to-door for sugary treats, so I don’t think teachable moments are a priority tonight. And before you give me the “you just wait” speech, let me head you off. My kid’s only five months old, I have another year or two at the least to figure this out. So good luck with that, future me and current you! But my son will definitely know that running away from the homicidal maniac with a chainsaw is a one way ticket to stumbling around shirtless in the woods before getting dramatically hacked apart while screaming sexily.

Anyway, I’ve gone off on a terribly violent tangent. The homicidal maniac in my tree is definitely not going to hack your child apart. Hopefully. I didn’t run a background check. My point is that I spent a medium amount of money on decorations and candy, so I can do whatever I want on Halloween. And what I want to do is put on zombie makeup and pretend to eat your children. And if that doesn’t make you laugh when you watch it, then go next door and enjoy the breath mints and whole apples.

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