“Trick or Treat!!!” yelled a mummy, some sort of mangled, Hispanic Frankenstien thing, and a mob boss.

Marko stretched, “Is it really goddamn Halloween already? Wasn’t yesterday Easter?” he questioned between sips of beer.

The kids thrust their bags of candy, pencils, and some leaves towards the alcoholic. “Alright alright, i’ll get your friggin’ candy.”

Marko itched his crack and reached into his pockets. “O.K. Let’s see, a staple or two for you, some paper for this lucky whatever-you-are, and a special-” He cut himself off,”Uh-oh. I ain’t got nothin for you. Now scram you kids!”

The kids scattered from the old, fat man. “Man, that guys a bum,” whispered the mob boss.

“Yeah, a real stiff,” mentioned the mummy.

Nothing came out of the thing.

“What do you think of him, James?” asked the mummy.

“James?”

Nothing

The thing stopped, collapsed to the ground, squirming, as if he were having a seizure. The other two kids took a single glance at him and ran as fast as they could to their mommies. *