Gene awoke to a furious pounding at the door. He fumbled for his glasses. The doorbell rang insistently. He pulled on some sweatpants and went to answer it.

“Are you insane?”

Gene blinked at the man on his doorstep. “I… Do I know you?”

“Scott Morrison. I live next door. You’d notice that if you ever bothered to trim your hedges.” Another incentive not to trim the hedges, Gene reasoned.

“Oh, yeah. Hi.” Big yawn—man, it was cold outside. “What can I do you for?”

“You can clean my car, for one thing. What the hell were you thinking, giving kids eggs and shaving cream for Halloween?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I didn’t have any candy, so–”

“So you incite vandalism? Have you seen my car?”

“It’s a Mustang, isn’t it?”

“Is it?! I can’t see it under all the egg yolks and shaving cream! Now, wake your lazy ass up and get over to my house and wash my goddamned car!”

“Hold the phone. I didn’t egg your car.”

“You provided the eggs!”

“Maybe I thought they’d make egg sandwiches. Hell, I gave the one kid a waffle iron.”

“If you don’t have candy, you don’t answer the door.”

Gene was horrified. “And disappoint the kids?!”

“The kids will live! My paint job isn’t doing so well!”

“I provided those kids with the means to create a Halloween night they’d never forget! They’ll thank me for it!”

Morrison collected himself. “Look. I’m not trying to start a fight here. All I’m saying is, intentional or not, the stuff you gave the kids last night was used to vandalize my car. I am a victim here. So I’m counting on you to be a responsible adult and take care of the damage. That’s all. Fair?”

Gene thought it over. “Yeah, it’s fair. I’ll be over after I shower.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. I’m sorry.”

“Okay. I’m taking the other car and doing some food shopping. You can use my hose or whatever you need while I’m gone.” Morrison waved and walked back to his house.

A pretty decent fellow, after all. Gene closed the door and took a nice, long shower. Next door, he was surprised to find how thickly congealed the eggs had become. This wasn’t going to wash off without difficulty. Maybe if he wiped most of it off, the rest would come more easily.

He went back to the house. No paper towels. And he sure as hell didn’t want to cover his bath towels in egg. Oh, but here’s a thought… He grabbed a package from the closet shelf.

It didn’t wipe very well, but it did absorb some of the damage. Gene swaddled the car for maximum absorption and went back to his house for a cup of coffee.

The egged and creamed car was now covered in toilet paper.

xo, Amy

Gene was washing the dishes when he heard someone at the door.

A kid dressed as a wizard held out a pillowcase. “Tricker treat.”

Halloween already? Gene didn’t have any candy in the house. “Just a second. Be right back.”

He closed the door most of the way and looked around quickly. No candy, of course. There were some apples on the counter, but the kid’s parents would think he put razor blades in them. Damn. On impulse Gene picked up something and returned to the door.

“Here you go. Happy Halloween.”

The kid stared. “What is it?”

“A waffle iron.”

The kid looked dubious.

“This is better than candy. You can make your own waffles, all year round.”

“Really?”

“Sure.” Gene couldn’t remember if the damn thing worked. He hadn’t used it in years.

“Okay. Thanks.” The wizard walked to the house next door.

Jesus. Time to go buy some candy. Gene went to his dresser and looked in his wallet. Twenty bucks, and that had to last him till Wednesday. Shit.

Knock, knock, knock.

Gene grabbed a few random items from the dresser and went to the door. Good thing, too, because it was a group this time.

“Here you go, everybody. Happy Halloween.”

A girl in a Tinkerbell costume made a face. “Speed Stick?!”

“Oops! Let me have that.” Gene took back the deodorant and gave her an old deck of cards instead.

A Mighty Morphin Power Ranger took issue. “I want candy.”

“You’ll have to settle for this watch.”

“Cool! Does it work?”

It didn’t. “Batteries not included.”

The Power Ranger didn’t seem to mind.

A punk rocker accepted the remote control to a DVD player Gene no longer owned without comment.

Gene closed the door and tried to think. He couldn’t just give away everything he owned. What on earth did he have to give out this year?

He went back to the kitchen. Maybe he’d stashed a Snickers bar in the fridge. Gene opened the refrigerator door. The opening notes of Also Sprach Zarathustra thundered around him. He took the carton and set it beside the door.

Back to the linen closet. The box was still there, unopened. Thank God he’d started buying in bulk. He settled himself in a chair near the door and waited for the fun to begin. He had beside him a carton of thirty-six eggs and a box of one hundred shaving cream samples.

Gene was gonna be the coolest guy on the block.

Copyright 2007 Amy Frushour Kelly. All rights reserved.

Reproduction by any means prohibited without prior written consent.

Tammy tucked Greg in and kissed his forehead. “Now, remember: don’t get out of the bed. Don’t even touch the floor with your toe, or the monster under the bed will get you. Okay?”

Greg nodded. “Thanks, Tammy. I won’t.”

“Promise?”

Greg solemnly drew an X on his chest. “Cross my heart.”

“Hope to die?”

“Stick a needle in my eye.”

Tammy ruffled the boy’s hair. “You’re a pretty cool kid, Greggie. I’ll be downstairs. Holler if you need me.”

“Night.”

“Night.” Tammy switched off the light and closed the door.

Greg waited a moment before turning on his nightstand lamp. He pulled the bag of jelly beans from its hiding place in the mattress and tossed one onto the floor.

A giant claw stole out from under the bed and grabbed the candy.

Greg leaned down. He could hear the hideous beast breathing. As long as he didn’t touch the floor, he was okay. “Are you ready?”

“She’s in the living room?”

“Yes, she’ll be talking to her boyfriend. Make it quick and don’t leave any mess.”

The creature rumbled a laugh. “There will be no blood.”

“Good. Eat her backpack and all her schoolbooks, too. It has to look like she left.”

“I will devour everything.”

“Okay, let’s get it over with.”

The monster slunk out from under the box spring and crept stealthily to the doorway. Greg tossed another jelly bean. The beast snapped it up in its mouth.

Greg smiled. “Remember, there’s more where that came from.”

The creature nodded and oozed underneath the door.

Greg smiled to himself and left the bag of jelly beans on the floor. Soon, he was fast asleep.

He looked like a little angel.

Copyright 2007 Amy Frushour Kelly. All rights reserved.

Reproduction by any means prohibited without prior written consent.

Maurice answered the door, only to find two zombies standing there.

“Oh, what a relief,” he replied, “I thought you might be Jehovah’s Witnesses.”

“Braaaains,” replied the male zombie. “May we come in?”

“Where are my manners? Certainly, please do come in.” Maurice stepped aside and closed the door behind them. “Can I get you anything? Cup of tea, perhaps?”

“Braaaains,” answered the male. “Tea would be lovely, thanks.”

“Braaaains!” added the female zombie.

Maurice smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid I don’t keep any brains in the house. Would you like something else?”

“A glass of water, then. I’m on Atkins,” she explained.

“One tea, one water. Have a seat, I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Maurice’s wife Edith was sitting at the kitchen table, doing a crossword. “Who is it, dear?”

“Nobody. Couple of zombies. Kettle clean, darling? One of them wants tea.”

Edith set down her pencil. “Tea? But we have a can of brains in the pantry.”

“I don’t want to waste perfectly good brains on people we don’t know.”

His wife shrugged. “Suit yourself. What’s an eleven-letter word meaning werewolf?”

Maurice set the water on to boil. “Hmm. Oh—lycanthrope!”

“Brilliant. Thanks, love.”

He returned to the sitting room with a cup of tea and a glass of ice water. Another zombie was walking down the street past the front window. “A friend of yours?”

The female scoffed. “Braaaains. As if!”

The male zombie shook his head. “That’s Simon. Bloody poseur.”

“One in every crowd, I suppose,” Maurice sympathized.

“But that’s not why we came here today,” said the male.

The female nodded. “Braaaains. Now, of course, being from the neighborhood, we realize you just recently lost your aunt Marie.”

“Quite often, the loss of a loved one turns a soul to pondering the afterlife. Consideration of an afterlife can bring hope to the surviving family. Braaaains.”

The female offered a slim black volume from her bag. “We’ve brought you a complimentary copy of the Book of Zombie. We believe it may bring you great comfort. Braaaains.”

Maurice smiled politely. “Of course my wife and I are pleased to accept your gift, but I must inform you that we have already reached an understanding of the afterlife.”

The male appeared curious. “So you’re familiar with zombieism?”

“Slightly, yes, but actually, we are vampires. For quite a long time, really.”

The female was the first to speak. “Praise Braaaains. There are many paths to enlightenment. I’m glad you’ve found the one that’s right for you.”

“Braaaains. Of course, if you change your mind, our phone number is written on the book’s flyleaf. Do take a look—perhaps you’ll find something of interest.”

When the zombies left, Maurice returned to the kitchen. “Gone, Edith.”

His wife finished her crossword and looked up. “What did they say? Let me guess—braaaains!”

Aunt Marie cackled from her coffin in the corner.

Copyright 2007 Amy Frushour Kelly. All rights reserved.

Reproduction by any means prohibited without prior written consent.