As always, word of our neighborhood’s candycentricness on Halloween has spread to the far boroughs. Swarms of children and their parents thronged our sidewalks and scaled our porches to get candy and we obliged. [My Attorney] actually went into Candy Panic when we looked out our front door and realized there was a line. 

She shot out to the store to front load a metric ton of Mars Bars into the trunk and race back in time to find out the mass candygank had crested and we were left with only our darkened doorsteps and a buttload of candy.

Until 10pm.

Then three kids hit the bell. The dogs go ape. Tweens and their keeper, a kid with hair on his hands and a watch. Barely even in costume. I tried to deny but he already had a fist full of Reeses and was backing away laughing.

A word to future Trick-or-Treaters (TOTs). The following rules will heretofore apply to the House of G:

• If you’re texting while I’m putting candy in your bag, bear in mind I keep a secret stash of dog-licked all-natural black licorice under the regular candy and while you’re LOLling I’ll be putting it into your bag.
• If you ask for candy and you’re still wearing your school uniform you get Ramen.
• If you have body hair, you get Ramen.
• Mr. “I’m a werewolf”/”You’re not even dressed up.”/”Full moon is next week,” you get Ramen
• The Papa Joe’s pizza delivery guy is not in costume, he’s bringing me dinner. Get out of his way.
• “I’m a Republican/Democrat/Occupy Wall Streeter” is not a costume. Ramen.
• Any adult dressed as Wilford Brimley gets beer.
• All of my candy is unwrapped then pre-licked by the dogs.
• Ramen.