On Halloween this year, I was dressed like a horrifying wraith. I say horrifying because you couldn't see my face, I had on long bony finger gloves, and I stood in the shadows and sneaked (yes, sneaked) up on unsuspecting trick or treaters.
I am a Red Sox fan. As such, I hate the Yankees and their fans. Not so much that I wish them harm, but I do like to make their lives difficult and I love to talk trash. This year a young man came by trick-or-treating in a Yankees uniform. I refused to give him candy. He pleaded, but I stood firm. Ultimately, I gave him a single piece of Laffy Taffy (tm).
When a kid wearing a Red Sox uniform arrived, I poured candy into his basket noting that I refused to give any to the Yankee kid.
His father and I had a good laugh and exchanged sad sap stories about our luck over the Red Sox winning another World Series. I lamented that I hadn't even had the chance to hang up my 2004 World Series Champion yet and now it was outdated.
He said he was upset because he went and bought a jacket that said "Six Time World Series Champions," and now they've won seven.
Oh, and for the neighbors' annual Halloween party? I was the Geico Caveman complete with brow and chin.
My wife went as a positive pregnancy test. Don't ask.
UPDATE: This post was created the day after Halloween, and I don't know why I didn't publish it. So here it is. Another glimpse into my uninteresting life.
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