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The Worst Part Of Halloween - Poem


The Worst Part Of Halloween - Poem

Do you know what the worst part of Halloween is?

The holiday where darkness is day, the ghouls and ghosts get together, and all dress up to fool them.

The time of year where the only real objective any sane person can have is to eat all the candy that they can get their hands on.

It is practically a law.

Do you?

Well, do you?

Do you know what the worst part of Halloween is?

Is it the buying of the costume?

Why is it one size too small every year?

I haven’t gained any weight, yet it is still so small on me.

bowl of candy Snickers and Twix

Is it the making of the costume?

For those who dare.

Or for those who are too lazy to buy their own.

Is it putting up the decorations?

On the lawn, in the house, in the backyard, everywhere.

Til all that is in your view is orange and black and cats.

Perhaps it is going pumpkin picking?

And never finding the one pumpkin size you are looking for.

Why can I never find a giant pumpkin?

Is it watching every scary movie ever made?

Binge-watching so much horror movies that you don’t know what fear even is anymore.

The sights and sounds of the films are now apart of your twisted soul.

Is it listening to the Ghostbusters theme song for the millionth time?

And now that is in your head too. You’re welcome.

I am not even going to ask you the question.

Is it going trick or treating and never getting any good stuff?

What is up with that? Why do we never pick the good houses?

We should try a different neighborhood sometime.

Is it not consuming all the pumpkin spice lattes in the world?

You have limits—only ten per day.

You’re not a monster, only an addict.

What is it?

What is the worst part of Halloween?

It’s having to share my candy with you.

The candy I slaved over. The candy I worked hard for. The candy that is all mine.

My Snicker for a smart picker.

Milky Way my way, every day, not your way, don’t even play.

Kit Kat for this cool cat.

Musketeers for this guy right here

Take my Mars, and I’ll send you to Mars.

Take my Twix, and you’ll eat my fists.

These are my M&M’s, don’t even pretend.

My Reeses snack, you know that.

This is all of my chocolate; make no mistake.

You should see. This right here is all for me.

pumpkin with fog

I don’t want to share any of my candy with you.


It’s all mine.

Even the pretzels from that neighbor down the block that neither of us likes.

All of this candy is mine.

And I am not sharing any of it with you.

Which is why I will casually take some from your bag when you are not looking.

And you won’t even notice that I took the candy.

If you accuse me, I’ll make a joke about the Ghostbusters song to distract you.

Man, sharing is hard.

You should try it sometime and not be so selfish.


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About The Blogger

Greg Luti is an editor and blogger on He didn't steal that candy you are missing from your bag. He would never do such a thing. He doesn't even like candy. The fact that you are missing 3 Twix bars, 2 M&M's and a Reeses is purely coincedental.


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