why i hide from the costumed youth

We only had four small groups of trick or treaters, but that is probably due to the fact that I didn't turn on the porch light until Mrs. Camino got home from work around seven, as I am afraid of children--especially ones in masks who are accompanied by parents with mullets and puff paint sweat shirts standing on my driveway with generic cigarettes hanging out of mouths as they mumble through them to ask Rupert junior, "What do you tell the nice man?"

Rupert junior then just stares through his plastic Hulk mask while ma and pa become more demanding that he thank me. Seconds go by. He just stands there breathing through the tiny slit in the Hulk's gaping angry faced mouth while Rupert, the elder, suggests the "whoopin" option. Rupert, the younger, quietly looks back with the condensation building in his mask, and I make an abrupt and awkward retreat from all the tension building on my porch.

Then again, the full gimp outfit was probably not the best costume for me to don while dispersing candy.