Kids on Halloween are like the Rolling Stones in an expensive hotel room -- they eat a shit ton of sugar then put their hands in the air and just don't care. Then they eat another shit ton of sugar, throw a few armchairs at the wall, toss the television off the balcony and empty out the mini bar like an angry badger. In just three short blocks yesterday I found one tattered pillowcase, approximately twenty empty wrappers strewn about like used-up groupies, and this:
A Laffy Taffy, a Baby Ruth (I understand why you might leave this behind), a Crunch Bar, Skittles, Peanut M&M's, two KitKats, and a euro. Seriously. Which house is handing out the European cash? Because I make a wicked Angela Merkel zombie, and I'll happily show up on your doorstep next year.
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