Loot

“Dad, are we finished yet?”

As usual, trick-or-treating ended for us when the boys tired and wanted to go home. We trudged up the hill to our house and enjoyed a last look at the two jack-o’-lanterns in the picture window, one happy and one scary.

After the boys were out of their costumes and tucked into bed, I poured their candy out onto the table and examined the pile.

Sandi looked over my shoulder. “Anything questionable?”

“No, not unless you count all this chocolate and sugar as being suspicious.” I plucked an item off the table, unwrapped it, and popped it into my mouth.

“Hey, you can’t do that.” She followed my example, picking one of her favorites from the heap.

“Look who’s talking.” I chose a different goodie. “Only one more.”

Of course, that meant an additional selection for her, then another for each of us, and, before we knew it, the upper-tier candy was almost gone.

“Are there any more?”

“Only two, one for each of the boys.” I sighed. “OK, I’ll run out and get a variety pack. They didn’t know just what they had, so us gobbling up their candy will be our secret.”

“You don’t have to get a big package. I’m good for a whole year. Maybe more.”

The next morning, I placed the refilled bags beside their beds and left for work before they woke. When I returned that evening, James met me at the door.

“Hi, James, did you eat all your candy?”

“No, Father.”

“That’s good. It’ll last you longer this way.”

“Father?”

“Yes, son.”

“Do you want some of my candy?”

“What? Don’t you want it?”

“I don’t really like candy. You can have it.”

I studied him. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Father. The fun was just going trick-or-treating.”

William R. Bartlett lives in Belton with his family.