Tomorrow it begins.
Tomorrow they'll all be out ranging free in the neighborhood. Up and down the halls of my building.
Short people playing make believe.
They've spent the last three months planning their costumes. They've been thinking about this night since Nov. 1 last year.
The parties. The dress-up. The bobbing for apples. It all seems so innocent.
But I've seen the gleam in their eyes for weeks now.
And they'll be out there in gangs roaming the streets. They'll be looking to score some M&Ms. There will be drive by toilet paperings and pumpkin smashings for the kid who gets the last tiny Snickers.
And then the worst will emerge. One of them will produce Pez paraphernalia.
There will be no stopping them once they get their hands on the Pixy Stix and LifeSavers. Blood will be shed over a Three Musketeers.
Oh the humanity!
And we-- the tall people-- will be powerless to stop it.
The sucrose will win.
It always does.
Lock your doors. Watch the Twin Peaks marathon on Bravo. It will be far less scary than what's happening outside your door.