Tomorrow, I shall mostly be watching horror movies.
As ever, I shall have a tin full of treats ready for any seasonal callers.
None have turned up for umpteen years now, so I shall probably end up eating them all myself.
Oh, won’t that be a pity.
Happy Halloween to you all, for tomorrow.
Trumpetville 
And a Happy Halloween to you, Pete. When we first moved to this neighborhood 20 years ago there were kids everywhere, most of them sliding backwards on the sidewalk, moonwalking. But the street has aged (not a bad thing), and now each Halloween we see fewer small princesses and Barack Obamas. To the point where this year we bought no candy at all. If a child does ring our doorbell, all I can offer them is a cigarette.
Where we are most of the houses are occupied by elderly people, and the younger families tend to organise Halloween parties rather than go round trick or treating.
It was different years ago, when I traumatised some young children by going to the door in a horror mask while Alice Cooper’s ‘I Love the Dead’ was playing on the stereo, or the time I chased after some kids and made them come back and pick up the paper they’d strewn across my lawn, or the time some teenagers came asking for money and I told them to clear off as they were too old.
Oh, maybe I’m the reason they don’t trick or treat round here any more.
Of course there were plenty of years when I was nice and gave them stuff. Honest.