Every year, untold number of children across the country hit the streets to beg total strangers for candy. For the most part, this will be a wonderful time. But then, there will always be those houses that a kid will walk away from with a tinge of disappointment in their young soul. Why? Because those houses give out shit candy.
Here’s the thing, though. You can totally use your kid’s misfortune to your advantage. See, the candy your kids are coming home with goes a long way toward telling you what kind of neighbors you’re surrounded by. Keep a close eye on your kid’s candy bag, and you’ll know more about the rest of the neighborhood than they know about themselves.
Here’s what the candy your neighbors hand out on Halloween says about them…
Tootsie Rolls = The Divorced Lazy Dad
Couple beers deep and watching MNF, this dad is taking it easy tonight while his wife has the kids this Halloween. So, on his way home from the bar, he bought a couple bags of Tootsie Rolls, put them in an empty popcorn bowl and set em on the porch. He scribbled a sign that said, “Take 2″ but he truly couldn’t care less. All he wants is his couch, his beer and for people to leave him alone tonight.
Tip: Take the bowl. He wants you to do it.
Candy Corn = The Anti-Halloween Hag
What an assbag of a house. No kid on the fucking planet enjoys candy corn. They look like carrots and taste like a candle. There is no appeal to this piece of shit. Clearly, this person stocks up on these bitches for 10 years and rolls a bag out every Halloween because nothing grinds her gears more than Halloween and kids. People who give out candy corn are clearly being forced to participate and are taking their resentment out on the neighborhood kids by handing out shit candy. This needs to be stopped.
Tip: Take as much as you can grab and dump them on their lawn. Can you imagine cleaning up 10,000 pieces of candy corn? Nightmare. Now they’ll know what it feels like to eat those turds.
Toiletries/Batteries/Socks = The Forever Alone Guy
God. Everyone has one of these unprepared lonely souls in their hood. He’s busy eating his microwavable meal and reading Paul Reiser while his cat meanders around the house looking for a faulty electrical wire. Forever Alone Guy is shocked when answering the door because he didn’t even remember that it was Halloween. So he’s scrambling around the house, trying to find anything to give you. Batteries. Socks. Forks. TV Guides. Toilet paper. He’s unloading a house full of worthless crap on you when he should be unloading a .45 into his head.
Tip: Be ready for this guy. Make a request. You got any nude magazines? What about a beer? Beef Jerky? Remember, you’ve caught this sad sack with his pants at his ankles, so you can demand anything and he will give you it just so he can quickly get back to his Stouffer’s filled tears.
King Sized Anything = The Joneses
This family has it all. The cars. The hot daughters. The pool. They even bought the house next to them to make room for a pitch and putt. You name it. They got it all. So any chance they can get to show off their wealth they’re gonna take it. No holiday is left behind for this opportunity. Christmas? Biggest tree on the planet. MLK? They’ll publicly donate a hospital to a black neighborhood. Lincoln’s birthday? They’ll wear velvet top hats and emancipate people who don’t need emancipating. So it’s no shocker to see these Vanderbilts passing out candy sizes that you didn’t even know existed. Monster Milky Ways. Colossus Hershey Bars. Baseball Bat-sized Butterfingers. It’s glorious, right? Except if you’re everyone else. Who do they think they are? No one’s child can eat a four-foot Twix, nor should anyone want them to. Don’t be at all shocked if it comes to pass that their highfalutin candy philanthropy is really just some twisted attempt to kill all the other kids using diabetes so they can be the only people in the neighborhood who have any.
Tip for Kid: There’s nothing this family loves more than giving kids two of these monsters. So feel free to ask for two. You will get it.
Tip for Dad: Take away this King Kong candy from your kids, consult with your neighbors and “accidently” forget to invite the Joneses to the neighborhood Christmas party. By another “missed” Fourth of July BBQ, they’ll get the hint and move to another neighborhood to terrorize.
Home Baked Goods = The Serial Killer
This should honestly be illegal. Yes, in this case, we trust a mega multi-million dollar corporate candy company product more than the baked treats our neighbor slaved over in the kitchen. What may look like a bored housewife with too much time on her hands is really a baking monster that uses a silencer to kill her victims in the form of candy apples, double stuffed brownies and ghost cookies with weird oddly bright orange frosting. These cookie bombs are always laced with razor blades and/or cyanide. Always.
Tip: Ask Ms. Williams to take a bite out of it before accepting. Make sure she eats half of it for thorough inspection.
Mounds/Almond Joy = The Biggest Jerk on the Block
“Fuck You” is what this ass clown is saying. There’s no kid who has obtained a palette to enjoy coconut. Even adults barely like coconut. And nobody likes coconut and almonds together. This guy is fucking with you. He’s giggling as you dejectedly accept his crap candy. He knows these things are going straight in the trash or, worse, sitting around in your candy bag, melting away, reminding you how much of a dick this guy is all the way until March. He never brings anything to BBQs. He eats all the food and drinks all the booze. He parks in front of your house. He walks around naked with the blinds open. This guy revels in being the biggest dick on his block.
Tip: Egg his house with Almonds.
Pennies = The Respirator
On any trick or treating route, there’s always a 180-year-old couple who thinks they’re contributing to your life savings or helping your family keep the ill-effects of the Great Depression at bay by giving you a handful of pennies. They are borderline worthless and need to be killed off. Are we talking about pennies or old people in that last sentence? Ha! Yeah.
Tip: When given the inevitable words, “don’t go spending all of it in one place,” make sure to drop kick that penny into the gutter and knock a few more out of the old bag’s hands.
Jawbreakers = The S&M Connoisseur
This neighbor gets his thrills through pain. This person gets off knowing that little zombie bastards will be sucking and cutting their mouths with those murder balls. Maybe this is your neighbor’s way of setting up a recruiting process to see who enjoys pain. Making his own little list of potential play dates.
Tip: Eat it in front of him and tell him how soft this shit is. Nothing will piss this guy off more than no pain at all.
Pixy Stix = The Drug Dealer
You’ve always wondered: how does THIS GUY own a house? Nobody has any fucking idea how he gets his money. Well, when Halloween rolls around and you’re receiving dozens of Pixy Stix from him, you’ve found your answer. He’s a drug dealer. Mostly cocaine, but he dabbles in other markets as well. He doesn’t put drugs into the Stix. That’s not his game. But he does understand how addicting Pixy Stixs are and he’s planting that seed of addiction in your brain. He’s Pavlov dogging you. Have some Pixy Stix? Want more. You think of Pixy Stix? You think of him. This will play to his advantage as you get older.
Tip: Be nice, because when you turn 16, he’s going to be your best friend.
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