The Devil's Holiday

"No."

But mom, this isn't the devil's holiday. You just go around asking for candy.

"No."

Come ooooooon. Every year I'm the only one at school without any candy.

"Good. You can thank me later when you're not fat with pimples."

Mom, I'm telling you. Trust me. Just let me go out with Leo for one hour. I promise I won't do anything to get in trouble.

"No. What is this holiday? Trick or treat? When the kids come by and I ask for a trick they look at me funny. Why do something to celebrate the devil? No. Not in my house. I don't care if you begin to eat the apple pie instead of my baklava, you will not celebrate this holiday."

Mom, your baklava is the best. You know your baklava is the best. I don't want to eat the apple pie. I just want to go out and get a little bit of candy.

"I know what you want. This is a day for the women to dress like street whores! Why do they do this? Why do they do this?"

My mom likes to ask me questions only to answer them herself.

"I'll tell you why they do this. They dress like street whores because it is the devil's holiday and it is a night of temptation. A night of temptation that my son will spend indoors giving out the candy."

Mom! Why do we give out candy if it is the devil's holiday? Aren’t you being a bit of a hypocrite?

"Now you call your mother names? The mother who carried you around for 10 months? Maybe I hugged you too much Johnny. Is this my punishment God? Is this how I get repaid?"

My mother likes to speak to God who conveniently resides in or around our kitchen.

Fine. I'll hand out the candy.

And this is how I spent most of the Halloween nights of my youth. That was until I figured out how to sneak out the back window and go dressed up as "a runaway child" with Leo.