She didn't think that she would get any trick-or-treaters, so she didn't buy anything for them. That seems simple enough, doesn't it? Well, let's see what can happen with that. It might be interesting.
We'll start off with my reacting to her diagnosis of the situation by saying, "Hell, get something for the kids. After all, you're living on Telegraph Hill and there are a lot of kids in the neighborhood and some of them are certain to stop here."
I said it in such a way that she went down to the store and came back a few minutes later with a carton of gum. The gum was in little boxes called Chiclets and there were a lot of them in the carton.
"Satisfied?" she said.
She's an Aries.
"Yes," I said.
I'm an Aquarius.
We also had two pumpkins: both Scorpios.
So I sat there at the kitchen table and carved a pumpkin. It was the first pumpkin that I had carved in many years. It was kind of fun. My pumpkin had one round eye and one triangular eye and a not-very-bright witchy smile.
She cooked a wonderful dinner of sweet red cabbage and sausages and had some apples baking in the oven.
Then she carved her pumpkin while dinner was cooking beautifully away. Her pumpkin looked very modernistic when she was through. It looked more like an appliance than a jack-o'-lantern.
All that time that we were carving pumpkins, the doorbell did not ring once. It was completely empty of trick-or-treaters, but I did not panic, though there were an awful lot of Chiclets waiting anxiously in a large bowl.
We had dinner at 7:30 and it was so good. Then the meal was eaten and there were still no trick-or-treaters and it was after eight and things were starting to look bad. I was getting nervous.
I began to think that it was every day except Halloween.
She, of course, looked beatifically down upon the scene with an aura of Buddhistic innocence and carefully did not mention the fact that no trick-or-treaters had darkened the door.
That did not make things any better.
At nine o'clock, we went in and lay down upon her bed and we were talking about this and that and I was in a kind of outrage because we had been forsaken by all trick-or-treaters, and I said something like "Where are those little bastards?"
I had moved the bowl of Chiclets into the bedroom, so I could get to the trick-or-treaters faster when the doorbell rang. The bowl sat there despondently on a table beside the bed. It was a very lonely sight.
At 9:30, we started fucking.
About 54 seconds later, we heard a band of kids come running up the stairs, accompanied by a cyclone of Halloween shrieking and mad doorbell ringing.
I looked down at her and she looked up at me and our eyes met in laughter, but it wasn't too loud, because suddenly we weren't at home.
We were in Denver, holding hands at a street corner, waiting for the light to change.
