Trash or Treat

When it comes to Halloween, I am of the mind that one should hand out the good stuff. A Tootsie Roll? No, thank you. A lollipop? Eh. A toothbrush? Go fuck yourself. But Reese's Cups? Butterfingers? Take Fives? Yes, please!

One year for Halloween my husband and I got a big bag of the good stuff. Crunchy, gooey, crispy, chocolaty stuff. Brand name stuff. At the beginning of the evening, we each set aside two of our favorites to be sure we got a taste. At the end of the evening, there was still quite a bit of candy left.



Knowing my propensity for sweets, I asked my husband to dispose of the remaining pieces. I had my small sampling; I did not need any more.

I assumed my directive to dispose of the candy would mean that it would vanish with him to work the following day. Imagine my surprise when I was tidying the kitchen after breakfast and saw a mound of Baby Ruths and M&Ms tossed carelessly into the garbage. When I say "tossed carelessly into the garbage," I mean "resting gently atop a discarded bag that seemed pretty clean." This meant that the candy, individually wrapped as it was, could be considered - by any sane person - completely safe and not gross in the slightest.

I shook the passing notion from my head and went about my business. But the candy had other machinations. It beckoned from the pail, each piece softly intoning "Juuulie. Juuuuuuuuuuuuuuuulie."

There was a moment, perhaps my last lucid one that fateful November 1, when I stood with my foot on the garbage can lever holding the top open and stared down at the candy. In that moment my mind shifted from contemplating the deliciousness of candy in general to these candies in particular. The individual wrappers were probably – possibly? - impenetrable. And the plastic bag they were sitting on top of? Perfectly clean, I was sure. My mind weighed deliciousness against disgustingness.

The scale tipped. I grabbed every single piece of candy and hurriedly brushed each off as though the 5-second rule had expanded to 5-hours. I tore through the wrappers and devoured every last piece like a wild dog.

During the ensuing sugar hangover, I had the clarity of mind to destroy the evidence. I buried the wrappers under some other trash and, just to be safe, took the entire garbage bag to the bin outside.

Naturally I blame my husband for the entire incident. But I have also changed my ways. Now I hand out Tootsie Pops for Halloween.