So the first kid that comes to our door is this little kid who can barely talk and is shy as hell. Wearing an adorable little dinosaur costume. “Say trick or treat!” Bashfully, the kid turns back to face me, looks at my feet, and says “… trick or treat.” I hold out the bowl and he tentatively takes a candy. I offer he can grab one for his baby brother (meaning he gets another one, because he’s cute)! He asks mom for permission with a glance, and then goes for the second candy, and says “thanks!”
So then this little bastard shows up. The door opens, and he says nothing … ALL he does is hold out his bag. His mom then says “Trick or treat!” after a few moments of awkward silence.
Me (cheery voice! all smiles!): “Well, I’m not going to put this candy in your bag, you’re going to have to pick what you’d like!”
Kid: “I’m a Jedi.”
Me (less cheery): “Ok Skywalker, pick your candy.”
the kid starts making a grab for a hershey bar. then he drops his bag and uses both hands to grab three more before I wrestle the bowl back from him
Me (incredulous, falling back on cheery to prevent something awful from happening): “I think that’s going to be enough for now, we want to make sure there is some candy for the rest of the trick or treaters!”
Kid: “How about some money?”
He then holds out a little paper piggybank.
What the fuck!
This kid just took four candybars and now has the gall to ask for money? With his mother standing there, saying nothing?
I should have tossed the little shit into the parking lot, taken all of his candy, and asked him, “where’s your Obi-Wan now, bitch?”
The last time I went trick or treating, some high school kids threatened my friend and I with baseball bats and stole our (overflowing) shopping bags full of candy.
The first time I went trick or treating, we happened upon a house with an unguarded candy bowl outside the door. I took a handful of candies, because I was a kid, and I could. I was unstoppable.
When I returned to the car, my mother marched me right back to that doorstep and made me return all the candy I took from them. It was an important lesson, and I remember it to this day.
As I ways saying, I should have taught this kid a lesson. Him and his worthless caregiver, who obviously hasn’t spent any time actually raising the kid.
But I didn’t, because just like I was taught not to be a little shit of a child, I was taught not to be the sort that beats up bad mothers and takes their kid’s candy. At the end of the day, despite the harsh front, I’m a nice guy. Really, I am. A teddy bear.
Me: “I’m afraid I don’t give money to beggars, you little shit. Just like I don’t give money to the homeless, unless they’re damn entertaining or clever, and you aren’t. Especially not greedy beggars that take more candy than I implicitly offered them.” WHAM! “Take that, you miserable excuse for the energy that could sustain ten people in a third world country that will be far more useful to humanity than you ever could be!”
Me (ok, what I really said — remember, I’m just an asshole in my internal monologue): “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t have any pocket change! Have a nice night!”
Kid: “Cash is fine.”
Me (syrupy sweet): “Oh, I’m sorry. Have a great night!” (door slams)