In the burbs, you'll hear people say they take their kids to the mall or the lame trunk or treat at their church because it's just not safe going door to door.
Snickers with razor blades, apples with needles in them, that sort of thing, right.
It was an article of faith when I was growing up, my parents really believed such sickos lived all around us.
There are a few. Robert Burdella was our local version, John Gacy was Chicago's.
Thing is, these monsters, when they surface, they capture the headlines for about a year because they are so rare, statistically speaking, they don't exist.
Far scarier, to most folks, I think, is a bunch of costumed cyclists taking over the road.
A bunch of lunatics who ride their bikes as if they were cars, as if they had a right to exist in traffic, an expectation that they should be able to arrive home alive.
Some might even ride in skirts. Dead sexy, as far as I'm concerned, the more so when it's a skirt full of fluff and devoid of practical virtues.
But in my new neighborhood, we get trick or treaters like crazy. They ship them in from surrounding areas.
I'm pretty cheap on the Halloween candy front. I bought a bag of what I consider the 'high test' stuff: Whoppers, Reeses, Hershey's. Then I grabbed a bag of middle-tier stuff, Skittles and Starburst.
Then there was the insult-grade bag, Smarties. Not, I think on quite a Dum Dum level of cheap and undesirable, because if I get stuck with them, well, I actually like Smarties.
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