Lay your head down child, I won’t let the bogeyman come.
Counting bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums.
A Perfect Circle, Pet
Here’s your Halloween-hating update: I had more than five hundred trick-or-treaters tonight.
No, I don’t live in Tokyo, I live in a sleepy little Midwestern burg. Oh, wait, another Spider-Man is at my door. You know what, Spidey, I’ve already spent the Gross National Product of Albania on candy tonight, here, just take my last five-spot. Take it, I don’t care. Yeah, happy halloween.
Oh, fantastic, your parents are also dressed up. Wait, that’s Kansas City Chiefs tailgating gear. And wheeling around a five-month old in a funny hat, who can’t possibly eat Laffy Taffy. Yep, they’ve got a pillowcase and they’re filling it for the little cherub. Seriously, kid, that‘s what I hate most about Halloween. Nope, not trick-or-treating, not jack-o-lanterns, not the douche working at McDonalds who takes an hour to disperse correct change because he can barely see through the eyeholes of his hulk mask.
OK, Spidey, the light’s going off. Oh, crap, another pirate. Here, matey. Yes, it’s a shoe. Just take it.
Fucking halloween.
