I was only home for three trick-or-treat rings of my doorbell last night, but each fascinated me.
1. At 8:02 PM, a "kid" stopped by, alone, wearing a cape. He was pushing 20. Despite having my permission to "grab a handful," this crusader took just one bag of Sour Patch Kids and, at my urging, a Tootsie Pop.
2. At 8:45 PM, I had my second visitor: a middle-schooler wearing a red t-shirt with the words "Skittles Candy" lazily ironed on. Even if executed brilliantly, this was a crappy costume. She was half-assing Halloween in every respect. Never even said trick-or-treat. To be fair, she couldn't say anything to me, since she was talking on her cell phone. She took one Butterfinger. I did not offer her more.
3. Finally, at 9:37 PM, a group of four tweens dropped in. I have no idea what they were supposed to be; looked like remnants of a more elaborate group costume. Perhaps other members of this group -- members whose roles were essential -- weren't allowed to stay out past 9:30 on a school night. They sensed Halloween's end was near and shamelessly horded my remaining candy.
Let's do this again next year.