The Trick on Treats

Word Count: 999

Mikey put the finishing touches on his makeup, stepped back from the mirror and checked on the total effect.  Nodding his head in approval, his turned to Butch, his rat terrier.  “I look good.” 

         He knew he was going to be grounded—if not murdered outright.  But it was going to be worth it!  With any luck, he’d have time to go through his loot, remove all the good stuff, hide it and leave the junk out in the open.  Then let them take away his candy.

He had discovered his parents were going to a Halloween party of their own, way on the far side of town. His sister, Nan, had already announced she was spending the night at her friend, Chrissy’s house.  Mom and Dad would drop her there on their way to the party.

         He was actually going to be left hone alone.  He’d spent the next day thinking hard about what he should he be.  He’d thought about it in Geography and the entire class laughed when he gave a dumb answer. 

He’d thought about it in Math, and had nearly been picked to do a problem on the blackboard.  He’d thought about it in gym class, and had to run a couple laps around the track to avoid detention.  Actually, that had been time well spent—it was then he it had hit him.  He was going to be a really gross and scary vampire.

He remembered the winter before, his mom had somehow—even his dad didn’t know—convinced him to attend some charity ball.  They’d had to get all kinds of fancy clothes.  And, as a little joke, his dad had got a cape instead of a coat.  It had been stuck in the back of the hall closet. He’d seen it when he was looking for his baseball glove last spring.

So, he had a really cool cape to wear over his black pants.  He’d snagged a white shirt from the laundry room.  And after some thought he decided he’d wear dress socks and his good shoes—it seemed more dignified and scarier somehow.

His next problem was blood.  He dumped a bottle of red nail polish on a rag.  But it took a long time to dry and got hard, and didn’t make very much blood.

Of course, there was always ketchup—but he thought that was for babies.  Then he’d seen his mom making something and she used corn syrup.  It was clear and thick—and that got him thinking.  The next afternoon, while his mom was driving Nan to soccer practice, he made a few tests.  True, it was too thick—but it could be thinned down with water.  In fact, he discovered he could make it exactly the consistency he wanted.  And he could add some food coloring (he’d used some last year when he to make some stupid salt and flour map) to achieve just the right color of blood.

He swiped five bucks from his sister’s purse, and bought his own bottle of corn syrup and set of food coloring, since he’d used most of his mom’s up experimenting.  But he was pretty sure she didn’t use it a lot.  And with any luck, she’d just think she’d used it up herself.

He ticked off the items on his list.  He had the cape and the shirt rolled up in an old tee shirt, under his bed, right next to the grocery sack with his blood supply.  His only remaining problem was his makeup.  He had thought he’d have enough to get some cheap stuff, but five dollars didn’t go as far as he’d expected.  But, undaunted, he’d come up with another idea.

He’d poked through the bathroom, Nan’s room and his mom’s drawers he collected an assortment of powder and eye shadow and stashed them in his sock drawer.  As soon as he’d heard everyone leave, he’d gathered his things and began his transformation.

There had been a moment when he felt really bad about all the stuffed he’d taken. But by then, he’d applied the powder to his face, neck and arms, and was able to shake off his guilt pangs, when he saw his reflection in the mirror.  After he was as pale as a ghost, he began adding layers of eye shadow over the powder.  He was really getting into it, blending carefully until his face was the shade of the underbelly of a dead fish. 

He added a bit darker shadow under his eyes, for that cool, sunken-eyed look, and climbed into his clothes.  He’d premixed his blood earlier in the basement, and managed to get it upstairs when everybody else was getting dressed.  So all he had to do was artistically dripped it on his shirt. he took a swig of it, and just held it in his mouth for a minute, before he let it dribble from the corners of his mouth. And with a final flash of inspiration, decide to carry the remainder with him, taking the odd sip in front of people.

He picked up the pillowcase for his swag and was on his way.  Without a doubt, he was the hit of the neighborhood.  He even snuck up behind two little girls and scared the crap out of them.  He completed the circuit, and went home to go examine his haul.

He entered the empty house warily, but he wasn’t scared—not really.  He threw the cape across a chair, cleared off the coffee table and dumped out his bag.

He looked.  He looked away and looked again.

What…?  How could that be…?

Now he was scared!  Because instead of the peanut butter cups and Snickers bars he’d been expecting, he saw a jumble of things: a white shirt, a bottle of corn syrup, some makeup, a little box of food coloring and a five dollar bill.  There wasn’t a candy bar in the bunch.