Trick-or-Treaters demonstrate so much more business acumen these days, one could not but fail to admire their frightful costume creations last night, and to shower the ghastly young ghouls with generous amounts of tooth decaying delights. I managed to find out from a particular group of diminutive ghastlies haunting my doorstep, as to which resident (not that I’m competitive) gave the best treats, it turns out that a local neighbour around the corner dishes out bumper size marsh mallows.  Hmmm. Bumper size marsh mallows indeed. We shall have to do something about that. Moohwhhahahahaha. After the dish of sweeties was emptied, the ghastliest of horrors shouted: ‘see you next year.’    It is clear to me that: a/they consider my doorstep worthy of repeat business, and b/they’ve decided to by-pass Christmas Carol Singing altogether, probably on account of negligible profit margins.


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