Well, Halloween has been and gone, there goes another 31st of October spent hiding from trick or treaters.
This wee letter in the NZ Herald’s Sideswipe column reminded me of the Halloween experience at Lita’s house this year, only mine was a teensy less invasive.
Samantha from Massey shares her scary Hallowe’en experience: “We heard the trick or treaters come down our drive but we chose not to answer the door because we had no treats. We were having dinner when suddenly our front door was opened and 8 kids aged 6-12, whom we had never seen before, walked into our house and demanded treats!! They thought it was perfectly okay and couldn’t understand why I was telling them off for coming into my house. Their parents watching on the driveway didn’t bat an eyelid. From now on the gates will be chained shut and doors always locked.”
Aside from the fact grown folk are teaching their kids to beg, encouraging bad diets and in some cases, leaving them to wander the streets knocking alone on stranger’s doors, I’m not anti Halloween. Honest – dressing up is fun, scary costumes rock, pumpkin makes a tasty soup.
I just don’t want to share my lollies, it’s as simple as that. And, in general, I loathe unsolicited knocks at the door – if you know me, you ring before dropping in on me, tis only polite.
So, this Halloween, as I chatted on an important phone call, a haggle of children squealed and squawked their way up my drive. I continued my phone call. Knock on the door. The cat shot me a look of knowing fear. Knock on the door, again. I lowered my voice, advised my caller that I had an unplanned Halloween emergency (quickly nicknamed Trick-or-treat-gate) and ducked down behind the kitchen counter. The cat made a dash for the spare room. It was like a scene from a spy film, only not as tense and with a really weak plot.
The knocks got louder, multiplying. They started calling out “we can hear you”, “we know you’re in there”, “Trick or Treat” like mad, obsessed ghouls. (Possibly one or two were dressed as mad, obsessed ghouls, but I can’t confirm. I wasn’t about to risk a peek out the window for fear of retribution from 9 year olds on extreme sugar highs.)
The knocks at the door got louder and more aggressive, the shouts madder. The torture only abated after 3 or 4 long, drawn minutes. My knees can’t handle crouching for that long. My caller also grew impatient and taunted me with “they can see you” and “they know you’re in there”. All terribly stressful and unnecessary.
Thankfully, word got out that my house is as tight as a tick’s ass, and they were the only trick-or-treaters we had to endure for the night.
Next year, I plan on answering the door and handing out muesli bars.