I loathe children, as you all know, but find them much less terrifying on Hallowe’en, when they are dressed as scary monsters, than at other times, when they are dressed as themselves. In joyful anticipation of the arrival of hordes of three-foot-tall devils and Screams and Karl Roves, I bought ten trillion pounds of wrapped chocolate on Monday afternoon.
I had one trick-or-treater. He had a lame red mask on that wasn’t the slightest bit scary. He took one piece of chocolate, but then I made him take three more.
Then I ate all the rest of it today, all nine trillion, nine hundred ninety-nine billion, nine hundred ninety-nine million, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine pounds and fifteen ounces of it.
Perhaps I can avoid my bathroom scale tomorrow morning if I imagine that it is actually a small child in a costume. Or Karl Rove.