Like so many eyeballs glued to the sloppy remains of some car crash victim, it’s safe to say that your double globes will find their way back here. I’ve been waiting for you to evaporate, like an assassin who realizes too late that escape was never assured but rather implied to heighten resolve. And therein lies the entertainment. The lion and the malnourished Christian playing back and forth. One too stupid to realize he can’t win and one too realistic to allow him to. It perplexes me sometimes, the reasons for choosing which houses to trick-or-treat at and which houses not to. Within the most brightly lit lies the cold heart of some frail, old, discontented granny who has laboured ceaselessly to produce caramel apples with surprise centres. For all those years she put up with those damn kids running through her flowerbeds. Just one bite and you’ll agree, modern medicine never looked so good. No tongue, no problem. If they can teach those stupid chimps to sign then you should have no trouble. So maybe you never did take the time to run it through your mainframe and you just hit every house you could. Treats, after all, are what it’s all about. Eventually you’ll wind up here. Everyone comes by sooner or later. Simply because I leave the lights off.

Another year, another fifty-two weeks wondering where fifty of them went. I’ve been better than this and I’ve been worse. But who’s keeping score? Maybe I’m trapped in a jar, you’re in grade six, and it’s science period. Maybe I’m creepy and maybe I’m beautiful. Maybe you should just check your damn textbook and see what it says. Because I’ve been wondering about that myself.