Not Quite A Story

Halloween With a Twist (of the ankle)

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"Happy Halloween! And have a ghoul-orious night!"

Except up until this point, the finely dressed witch and vampire were having such a night. But now, as evidenced by their grief-stricken, war-flashbacking stares, it appears there's been a change of events. But what exactly changed the events?

Maybe it was the fact that the dog had been demonically barking at the two ever since they'd taken the courageous leap of stepping on the porch.

Maybe it was the man at the door's costume design of a World War 2 general, (which would explain the war-flashbacking).

Or maybe, just maybe, the reaction was warranted from the looming, shadow-casted, bodiless horse placed menacingly by the china cabinets.

However, what they didn't know was how that was Alya, being held captive on a garden chair by 10 pounds of licorice neatly wrapped in a bow.

If she was in a 4th season in premiere of some dramatic comedy right now, she was pretty sure this would be the part where everything freeze frames and she explains the situation. Except, the problem was that even she didn't know what was going on.

"Haha, alright kids," her captor announced with a nervous laugh, as realisation dawned him about the increasing likelyhood of being sued by parents, as they both looked unnervingly close to entering an inescapable void of mind-breakage

"How about you go, and collect some other fang-tastic candies...or something." Then, an expected sequel to the nervous laughter, except now it'd seemed to have upgraded to mortified. "Don't tell your parents."

Though sounding in no way merely pedophillic, the two nodded in a hive-mind manner, before they stumbled to exit the porch and enter back into reality. He closed the door and smiled with wide, ignorant satisfaction that, if personified, would say 'well that went well."

"Geez, looks like they've seen a ghost," he commented, primarily to himself with a knowingly ironic huff.

This became secondarily as he he turned and remembers the artistic masterpiece he'd constructed before. He knew that bow would add a contrasting eeriness.

Having been forced to gaze upon that smugly inspecting gaze that screeched of that family-reknown trait of narcissism, Alya contemplated.

She contemplated over whether to let it rest or collect every single one of those 42 uttered ghost puns from today (which is only one of the many spectral categories of pun he'd uttered) and whip a brand into that disgusting excuse of a cattle. But her hands were tied, literally.

figuratively, she meant that on one end, doing so would grant the oh so desired satisation of becoming karma itself and stabbing him in the back (granting actual karma a well-deserved break), but on the other hand...

Yeah, it's a one sided stick, or is that just a short stick? regardless.

Giving her response of a sizzling cold stare, he responded by flicking up a chocolate egg from the candy bowl, which was a recycled treat from this easter. This, of course, totally isn't a heath hazard to be dealing to kids now.

Wait a second...Oh god, that look, he's gonna do another-

"What'd ya think of those puns back there though, Al? Did they beat your eggspectations"

44 and inevitably counting..He's just making the whip thicker and doesn't even care. If Jai were here, (and thank the heavens he's not), he'd condemn his sorry excuse of a brother for using such lowly examples of comeback, even though puns classify in an entirely different liquid group