She never even thought that any trick or treaters might come by her place, so she hadn't gone out of her way to get any tricks or treats to give away.
Seems simple enough, wouldn't you think?
Well, let’s see what we can figure out about all that if we may. As a fair warning the creative writer is here with me today, so things might get somewhat weirdly charming and rather interesting.
I guess we should probably start off with the fact that I overreacted to her on-the-fence outlook at the dire disaster in the making that loomed ahead of us by calling her on the telephone.
"What the hell gorgeous, be a good sport and go on ahead of me, as I'm running a bit late this evening because of a delayed train. Maybe even go so far as to pick up some tricks and even a few treats from the candy store for the neighborhood kids on your way home. You do after all, live in the spookiest, safest looking neighborhood this side of town and lots of those little shits will most certainly come by to fill up on their greedy and sugary little needs to their heart's content."
I asked her in such a polite manner that she stopped by the store with a smirk upon her face on the way home. I showed up an hour later and knocked on the door before letting myself in.
She was dressed up like Little Red Riding Hood holding a big ole bag of Tootsie Roll Pops, and a few other assorted treats.
“Are you satisfied?” She asked.
She was one of those fire signs I think.
“101%.” I howled with a grin, noticing her outfit.
I’m a Virgo. So think "scorched earth" should you so wish to.
We also each had a pumpkin to carve. Mine was a Cancer moon. I have no idea what moon hers was.
I sat at the kitchen table and starting carving out my niche when she walked back into the kitchen from being unwound by a couple healthy glasses of red boxed wine.
About eleven whole full moons had come and gone since I last carved a pumpkin. So I was having some fun. My pumpkin had a big ole hole in its in heart and I had a smaller white pumpkin that I forgot to mention earlier that I had drawn an eye on with a big black pupil and a sapphire iris to boot.
The little white pumpkin was a Gemini rising.
It looked like the eyes of someone I used to know.
She was cooking dinner with her little red hooded veil still on, and before long a heaping pile of spaghetti strands were sprawled across the floor with an heirloom tomato gravy simmering silently away in the realm of eternity. Meanwhile, a sweet smelling pie was baking fragrantly away over in the oven, and Frank Sinatra was crooning away about some old black magic over the record player.
"Here, this postcard came in the mail today addressed to absolutely no one in particular," she said, throwing it my way.
"Oh yeah. Who's it from again? No name? What's it say?" I flipped it over to see for myself.
"You tell me."
"Follow your heart. Trust your gut. Forever stay the course." I read out loud.
The name of the sender was blank too. It was only addressed to love. I'll be it mysterious and left to nothing more than someone enjoying anonymity.
It had a spiral line drawn upon it too that went around and around until it came to halt in the center. In very fine and miniscule print at the bottom it said something about it being the secret way through a wilderness of love.
"That's vaguely interesting and somewhat odd, yet motivating enough," I said.
"Whoever could it be from, or even for?" she asked with the same smirk upon her face she had at the store earlier.
"Believe it or not, I haven't the slightest clue." I said scratching my head with confusion. "But whoever it's from, they seem to mean pretty sweet by it."
"Follow your heart. Trust your gut. Forever stay the course."
I gently thrust it back towards her. She glanced over it then gently slid it back into her back pocket.
She started to carve out her pumpkin while the aromatic tomato gravy was simmering gorgeously away.
Her pumpkin had a rather vintage look with a crown carved out of it, and was touched by a modern flair that had become more flawless with each and every one of her passing lifetimes.
It looked more like a timeless queen in the flesh than it did some festively created jack-o-lantern.
In the time that dinner was bubbling away with the fragrance of romance and happiness, and pumpkins were being carved out of childish joy, the door bell never rang so much as even once. Not one solitary goddamn knock.
The evening was seemingly becoming more and more robbed of any tricks or treats, or delightfully good deeds with each passing minute.
There was no need to panic though.
There were an awful lot of Tootsie Roll Pops waiting with patient anxiety to be snatched up at any time from an antique mosaic bowl propped up on the kitchen counter though.
“How many licks does it take to get to the center of...?’ I asked, looking up from her lap.
She wiggled with delight, fixed her veil, and uncrossed her smile and legs from around my head.
We had spaghetti with tomato gravy and a couple glasses of wine around 7:30. It was the best damn spaghetti I’d ever had.
By the time our dinner had been devoured, we still hadn't heard from any of those damn trick or treaters. It was almost eight o’clock on the dot and the Tootsie Roll Pops were starting to get a little antsy in the pantsies if you know what I mean.
As was she.
I thought I might be a little bit antsy too, but I don’t like to think that way.
I did start to wonder however, if it was any other day of the week but Halloween.
Hell, for all I really knew it could've been Christmas or Valentine's Day just the same.
But she looked like a dream come true as she glanced upon the scene with an aura of wisdom and innocence. And she had yet to boast about, or go so far as to even mention the fact that not one little bastard trick or treater had knocked upon her hallowed door.
This made her even more splendidly attractive than her smile, her mind, or her little red riding hood outfit already did.
"Should we dive into the honey pie before those trick or treaters come and get in our way?” She asked at approximately 8:03, licking her glossy lips from the rejuvenating sweetness of a misplaced Hershey's Kiss.
“Absolutely your grace." I said as we headed for the kitchen.
At 8:11, we were still trying to make it to the kitchen, but didn’t get very far because some things had come undone and a wall had gotten in the way. The lights were flickering off and on and back and forth like crazy in and around the hallway.
At 8:38, I stood up from a fresh pile of unlaundered clothes on the kitchen floor to finish licking up the remnants of the sweetest piece of pie I'd had in some time. We were talking about doing this and that and the other for the rest of eternity.
I licked my fingers clean, washed my hands, and I was kind of in my own little silent void of a written dream because I couldn't help but feel that we had been eternally duped by all the trick or treaters, or lack thereof, in this uniquely curious case.
I think I was starting to wonder what the score of the game was to try and get my mind out of a rut, when she burst out, “Trick or treat, love me sweet, and you'll get something good to eat."
"Oh yeah, well, I'll huff and I'll puff, and I'll lift...your soul up...wait, that’s entirely the wrong fairytale." I said, laughing out loud at myself.
Right after that a light switch flipped on inside my head and changed the whole outcome of the game. And I thought I should draw her a bath and uncork a vintage bottle of Decoy Cabernet for her.
So I did.
I headed for the bathroom, drew her a bath, gave her the whole damn bottle and left her to do her peaceful thing.
I then went and grabbed the mosaic bowl of Tootsie Roll Pops, lit the creatively carved pumpkins with a couple candles, placed them just outside the front door to burn the night away underneath the magically waxing moonlight. I tidied up the porch too with a few decorations to add a bit of imaginative value. I strung a few webs from here to there, and halfway buried gravestones and crosses everywhere. I almost forgot to flip the front porch light back off again that had been turned on earlier, but I didn't.
That would make some haste and trick those damn treaters once and for all and scare them far far away from this place if they ever came to knock on the door, or when the damn doorbell finally rang.
In the meantime, the mosaic bowl full of Tootsie Roll Pops just sat there outside, propped up for the world to see, patiently waiting beside the softly glowing pumpkins and a web covered garden bed of peonies and daisies wondering how many licks it takes to get to the center of…
Around 9:20 or so, she was done with her bath, and we were crawling into bed when the trick or treaters who were late as hell mind you, but nonetheless, ready to begin.
Shortly thereafter a small band of bastard kids and feral misfits came running through the yard towards the haunted porch. It sounded like a space shuttle taking off outside, followed by a lot of things being knocked around, thunderous clapping, cyclones of surprising shrieks, breathless sighs and beligerent moans, a few oohs and even an ahh, followed up by a couple of intimate heartfelt gasps, and finally, a bell ringing eternally in our ears.
It was about 10:01 when the trick or treaters had finally been tricked and treated and then retreated for the year being. I looked up to her and she looked down on me, our mindful eyes met with a blissful giggle as she wrapped her arms and legs around my soul without a single care in the world.
But suddenly we weren’t home anymore.
We were somewhere similar to what downtown Heaven might've been, bumping into one another on a cosmic street corner. I was on my way home pleasantly indisposed by the chocolaty core of a sugary treat I just picked up from the neighborhood candy store on the other side of the universe.
She barely held onto the Milky Way with the realm of eternity in her right hand, and in her left, she was struggling to carry one of those Trader Joe's reusable grocery bags filled to the brim with infinite strands of loose spaghetti and farmers market fresh heirloom tomatoes. She had a postcard in her back pocket.
"Who's all that for if you don't me prying ma'am?" I asked, glancing at her majestic butt.
"Who do you think you charming wise ass?"
So I, as a gentleman should always do, lightened the weight that was pulling her down and took the bag of spaghetti and tomatoes from her left hand and grabbed her by the realm of her right hand and threw the remnants of my Tootsie Roll Pop into the trash can.
We just stood there patiently bathing in the moonlit silence waiting for the light to change, and all of the traffic to pass by inside my busy head, maybe even a song, and a train to come and finally take us home, all the while wondering just how many licks does it take to get the center of...
Ryan Love
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