Trick or Treat
I still live at home. I don't mind it, except for the dinner table. I said to my parents, "I've been sitting in the same seat my whole life. Let me sit at the head of the table." And my mom said, "The table's round. There's no head of the table." I got mad, because dad's seat is the head of the table, even if the table's round. But I didn't say a thing.
None of my friends go trick-or-treating anymore. They stopped going about fifteen years ago. I didn't. I said, "Do you still celebrate Thanksgiving? Christmas? Birthdays? So, why not Halloween?" Actually, I don't have many friends; I said this to them when I was growing up.
Halloween's a big deal for me. Around the first of the year, I start thinking about my costume. I write down ten or twenty ideas and then, over the summer, I narrow down the list. By September, I've got a pretty good notion of what I'm gonna wear. I do all this planning because when I was seven, I almost didn't have a costume. I couldn't think of what to wear, and all of sudden it was October 31st, and I didn't have a clue. My dad gave me some of his old clothes, and said, "If anyone asks, tell them you're dressed as a parent." So I did. I went as a parent, and it sucked.
I don't have a job. When I was young, I killed my third grade teacher. I didn't mean it. I got in an argument and I hit her in the chest twice, and she went into shock and died. She had had a heart condition, which I didn't know about. They sent me to a different school, where you learn things a lot slower.
Tonight, I'm dressed as Dracula. I got the cape, the fangs, the white makeup, and the fake blood dripping down my mouth. I think I look pretty good. I guess it's a little weird walking around the neighborhood. My parents ask me to stay home and help them hand out the candy, but I say no.
I leave right when it gets dark. My first stop is across the st