Reason 285

Halloween duties. Sure, as a kid I enjoyed dressing up in whatever thrift store outfit my mom had pieced together, smearing greasy makeup over various parts of my face, and roaming my neighborhood demanding candy from the shut-ins I only seemed to see once a year, but as an adult my passion for Halloween has waned and I no longer feel compelled to celebrate in costume with drunken idiots who have no qualms about strutting around as sexy caterpillars or something. Nope, I am perfectly content to spend All Hallow's Eve on my mother's couch, passing out treats to the local skeletons and Spanish dancers while a cheesy movie plays in the background. In fact, that's exactly how last night played out (and the Halloween before that and the Halloween before that...well, you get the picture). I enjoy oohing and aahing over creative costumes parents slaved over and seeing tykes' faces light up when I magnanimously tell them they may take 3 pieces of candy out of the bucket. I bet the stingy folks across the street can't top that! I adore the sound of crinkling candy wrappers as tiny hands dig through the offerings, searching in vain for their favorite sugar bomb, and I take comfort in knowing that not everyone in this country is frightened of knocking on their neighbors' doors, even if it does only happen once a year. Since you are quite the social butterfly, Jason, I'll assume you spent last night at your local bar hitting on scantily clad women while dressed in some brilliant outfit purloined from the HIMYM costume trailer. Sure, you had a grand time, but what about those poor neglected kiddies who banged on your security gate and received only silence in return? Since I'm sure we'll be the best of friends by next Halloween, I will gladly take it upon myself to keep your proverbial home fires burning and pass candy out to anyone who is brave enough to approach a celebrity's house while you get shot down by she-devils and bunnies who have no interest in checking out your puppet collection. I will, however, expect you to shell out the big bucks and buy candy bars people actually like, as opposed to fruit snacks, toothbrushes, or coupons for doughnuts at the local grocery store, as a neighbor of mine used to do. We may be bosom buddies, Jason, but that doesn't mean I'm willing to stomp out a bag of flaming dog poo left my some miscreant who hates boxed raisins. Even I have my limits.